


Once Upon a Time

by Supella_Remains



Series: Enchanted AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Bisexual Lance, Cliche, Enchanted AU, Familiars, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith, Hunk and Allura are siblings, Implications of Trance, Keith (Voltron) gets kidnapped, Keith is 18, Knight! Lotor, Lance is 19, M/M, Possible Character Death, So Many Titles, broganes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-04-26 21:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supella_Remains/pseuds/Supella_Remains
Summary: A Prince and a Witch in your very typical Fairytale.





	1. A Beginning

Once upon a time, there was a great and powerful witch. Her might was absolute and none could oppose the rule she had over the land. However, she was in no way an aristocrat, remaining in the woods instead in one of the many elegant houses she easily could’ve acquired. She was merely the guardian of the woods, looking after them and guiding them. 

Her powers were not limited to the trees, as many today have grown to believe. She could control the water flowing down the river and make it freeze on the days of summer. She could make heaps of earth and converse with the animals that walk among us. Flowers wilt and bloom at her will. Why some say she could even sing songs that lead lovesick men to her home, lulling their lonely state for the night. And among all her powers, the strongest was of prophecy. 

Oh, the Witch could see glimpses and trails to where the future led. What each branch would produce the coming turn. She even knew what enemy would attack them, this is how she became friends with the Queen. The Queen was expecting you see, she had been praying for a prince to become heir to her husband’s throne. So at once, she arranged a meeting, in the field between the castle and the woods that the Witch tended. They were to meet at night while the king slept, the Queen snuck away into the dark. 

“Lady of the Forest,” the Queen asked. “I have a question of you, of the matter of my unborn child.”

“Yes. But my Queen, know that not all you will hear will be to your liking. The stars say nothing of your child,” the Witch replied calmly, yet tenderly to the Queen. “They do speak of your line, they speak of a great lineage.”

“Can you tell me more?”

“My Queen, I see a long line. A rule like that of your father’s awaits this land. It shall continue down through your generations and your children’s children shall prosper greatly.” The Queen rejoiced in that for a mere moment before the Witch continued. “But long after you and I have passed from this world, and our grandchildren have passed. There will be a prince of great beauty and kind heart, however, his decisions will always be quick and rash. “

“Yes my Lady, what of this prince?” The Queen asked softly. “Please continue, my Lady.”

“By first night of his eighteenth turn he will not wed nor shall he know of romance. His heart is to be stolen away. A witch of my own line shall steal him away and he shall be lost to time- the kingdom will thence fall at the hands of a knight.”

“Is there any way to save them? My line and my Kingdom?” The Queen was desperate to save her line and her people. She begged the witch to save them. 

“No, the Prince of Stars shall be whisked away into the night, his heart shall not be spared from my line. The many generations of Altea shall usurp your throne as his entirety be stolen away into the night.” The Queen, distraught, ran out from the field and woke her husband. 

The King awoke the guard and his horses and rode out to the way to the old cottage where the witch lived as he cried out, “For the Kingdom, this witch shall burn!” 

That night they burned the forest down to the ground, only for it all to rise back the next day.

“Once upon a time…”

Lambent, how Keith hated that phrase. It was always what started those fairy tales he had been flooded with his whole life. 

He had heard it so many times at the temple of his patron goddess, every Sixth Day in fact. Every Sixth Day he and his mother were escorted to the temple of Roscadia while his brother would trek to his patron- Kelliom (who Keith would argue was a much, much more appropriate deity for a monarch— despite Kelliom also being the protector of sleep and dreams.) Every Sixth Day he would follow her up to the altar and kneel before her golden statue that was covered in ivy and lace. He would hear teller after teller open with that line and read out the exact same stories, always ending with the one variation he had grown to hate the most. The story of how a prince of stars would be kidnapped by of all things a witch. 

Now you could call Keith biased and you could call him naïve for not listening to the oh so many warnings surrounding him. But oh there was just something about this story that Keith loathed with his entire being. He absolutely despised it, with every ounce of him. Maybe it was because the “protagonist” shared the same title as himself? Being dubbed the Prince of Stars was truly not a common title— in fact, Keith believed it was unique specifically to the Kingdom of Els’rawand. His father had been King of Moons (prior to his passing), his mother Queen of Suns, and his brother (before he had assumed the primary head of the family) had been Prince of the Void. So why exactly was this tale supposed to be following him, specifically? Or maybe it was the mere notion of a witch that made him livid? A legitimate witch who was, in the actual storybook, depicted with green skin and a nose much bigger than her face. Not someone who was Wiccan or anything remotely logical— an actual, stereotypical witch. Or maybe it was the idea people really believed he would fall for some simple ruse to capture him. That he didn’t quite have the mental capacity at sixteen turns to know that he should stay away from men and women with green skin. Now, in reality, Keith knew quite well what he loathed so much about the story he had forced himself to ignore, he knew absolutely what it was. It was that everyone about him, throughout each and every land (even young princesses who had desired his hand, and the Knights that served under them) all believed this silly little children’s story to be truth. They all thought Keith was going to fall prey to some madman’s tricks on the dusk of when he became eighteen-turns- old. 

The mere thought of this got Keith shaking with anger, as he had to force himself to still as the maidens came and placed roses on the masses heads as they prayed. Why would the public perceive him as someone so foolish, he could fall for this act? Why did his family as well? They saw him prevail in all of his studies; they saw him master every lesson with ease! Why would they consider him so foolishly stupid? The only one who didn’t see the Prince as such was his own personal knight— Lotor of Arus. 

Lotor was a special kind of man Keith would rather not put up with. Lotor was perverse and greedy, arrogant and full of false bravado. He was possessive of Keith despite his rejection of his advances. However Lotor was his knight and his betrothed, therefore Keith had to learn how to (as his mother had once put it) “play nicely with demons so you can rake them through their sins.” And yes, that’s exactly what he was doing— while he may be betrothed to this man, Keith could not care less. Lotor was good at protecting him from public harm, he felt like he was constantly hovering over him and he felt like he could never live with that for his husband. Yet the most he could do to escape such a loveless prison (if Keith truly had to face the music, he was a hopeless romantic) was to outlast him in this race and write each sin his knight had committed down. However, that also required being around him which Keith also did not particularly enjoy. Especially on Sixth Day when Keith had to be escorted out to his castle and into the woods so that he could bathe. Lotor obviously had to be the one to escort him. When he got undressed he could always feel the other’s eyes staring him down and never looking away. He looked at him like a rabid bear looks at meat. And of course, Keith knew, that was exactly what was going to happen today unless he could separate himself from the knight for a time. 

Somehow or another he has managed to slip away from those vacant slits that Lotor called his eyes. Yet however, the prince had gotten lost— he cursed his brother’s name for not allowing him to go into the village since he was only three turns. All he could do was bite his lip in frustration, hugging up into an old musty jacket, hiding his face away in the collar. He leans up against the corner of a building. That is until he heard a deep voice call out, “Hello? Are you lost there, mister?” 

“Oh uh sorry, am I not supposed to be here?” Keith mutters softly, the man quirks an eyebrow. “I can never find the time to come to town.”

“No, no you’re allowed to be here. Don’t worry you just seem a little lost. Could I possibly help you?” The giant spoke in sweet and innocent voice: then he gasped as he suddenly realized something. “Sorry, I’ve not introduced myself. How rude. I’m Theodore Garrett, but most people just call me Hunk.” He sticks out his hand for Keith to shake. The Prince could definitely see why they called him “Hunk.”

“Keith...Kogane,” the Prince smiles back smally. He goes to shake Hunk’s hand but is quickly pulled into a tight hug instead. 

“Nice to meet you, Keith! Now, where are you headed off too?”

“I had heard there was a library somewhere around here. Would you possibly know where that is?”

“Know where it is? My best friend runs the place. Hey, why don’t you join us for book club today?”

“Are you sure that’s not too intrusive?” It was getting hard to breathe in this gentle giants embrace. 

“Nah buddy, Lance loves new people.” Finally, Hunk released his (albeit well-meaning) death grip. As it turns out, Lance loved new people. Just not Keith’s type of new people. Or to be more precise just Keith in general, which Hunk and a short young woman did not take very well too. The shorter woman went as far as to hit the librarian over the head. 

“No! No more newbies, I told you that the last time you brought one.” Lance cries, closing his book down onto his thumb with a slam.

“Brenda was just a fluke, Lance!” Hunk pouts. 

“How were we supposed to know she was such a—” She stops as if searching for the right word. “Curr?” Keith thought he could find these three enjoyable in a company. Hunk was kind and sweet, yet wasn’t a pushover. The young woman was fierce and strong despite her stature. He found them intriguing, to say the least. And he didn’t really have much a problem with Lance. In fact, from what he just saw? Lance seemed pretty enjoyable— at least to annoy him. Lance was energetic and over the top, the complete opposite than what Keith had been brought up around. He was tan, tall, and much more muscular than you would think a librarian would be. He had bright eyes that were every bit as expressive as his vocabulary.

“I’m Katie, but you can call me Pidge,” the young woman smiles, breaking Keith from his train of thought. He smiled back smally, waving slightly. “The pouty man in the chair is Lance.”

“Keith, I understand if you wanna go after the stunt Lance pulled,” Hunk offers sadly, elbowing Lance in the side.

“No,” The three look at him with wide eyes and cocked eyebrows. “You guys seem interesting.” Hunk and Pidge grin widely, looking to Lance. Keith sits down and smiled softly, sliding a book over close to him and opening up. “Should we begin?”

Lance huffs as he begins to tell this old story. Keith watching him, every once and a while giving into his own desires and that curiosity that plagued his character. He didn’t let out a groan as he heard those four words leave the librarian’s lips. “Once Upon a Time” didn’t seem like too terrible of a beginning for whatever tale the leader of this little group was about to unravel as he spoke. 

Maybe “Once Upon a Time” wasn’t a death sentence for a story after all.


	2. An Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince's Knight comes to look for him and things escalate as the Prince prepares for his Eighteenth-turn ball.

Keith was not an average boy by any case, despite how desperately he craved otherwise. It had been two turns since he first discovered the book club among the shelves of the library, he had managed to hide well his activities from his mother and the king— as well as slipping away from his knight for two solid turns as well. Sneaking had become the young prince’s best subject as even now he was pulling the light gray cloak about him, covering his hair and most of his face as he slipped through columns of villagers— muttering soft apologies as he tried to gently maneuver around the village. He quickly slips into the old building uptown, tiptoes to the astronomy session, clutching his book close to his chest. He couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his lips. 

It should be sad really...the Prince of a very powerful nation was very excited about going to a book club. Sadly he only had a few moments to spare lately as time was scrunched prior to today. Planning and decorating color coding and by Umaae’s Will, he had gotten everything barely handled in time. Keith had missed three weeks worth of meeting in preparation for tonight’s ball and everything still had yet to be complete: he still had the flowers, the cake, the music, and the speech to rehearse. It was like every grain of salt about him was collapsing upon him, drowning him in overexertion. Keith had wished that Lance could’ve donated his energy to the crown for just a few moments so Keith wouldn’t pass out every couple of vargas. Not to mention dealing with potential suitors who weren’t informed that legally the country of Els’rawand couldn’t say in letter, until Keith was of eighteen turns, that he was betrothed. So between dealing with the young ladies and men of Irisa, Transversa (though the young lady seemed awfully disinterested and it was more her aunt trying to sell her off. Charming girl, that Erieanna) , and Blancoseni who had all came to give their warm regards and their best flirting attempts to try and win over the normally stoic prince. They all had been staying in the castle these past weeks as well— some having even swooned for the others. Keith offered them all a smile and found time to gossip with them all late at night when the candles had withered away. Keith envied them somewhat, the hopeless bit of him wishing for nothing more to find a love like some of those lucky few. However that was rather foolish of him to crave, he had a duty. 

Lambent, all Keith truly wanted to do was just to go into his garden and be alone for five ticks. But for now, he was happy enough to be headed back to book club, at least for a few moments before he had to go back to his duties. Slowly he had grown close to each character he had met along the hardcovers and paperback, the ones who made up “Voltron: the best book club in existence” as Lance had so humbly dubbed them. The first character was the childish, yet intuitive Pidge was the daughter of some farmers in a nearby pasture— her brother a Knight of Marmora, who was returning home today in fact. Then there was the kind and protective Hunk was the towns baker, and by Lambent’s and Ashlitcus’ will he made the best sweet bread the Prince had ever tasted. Probably the best he’d ever taste within this life or in the Sehtole World. And last (but certainly not least) came Lance: the one and only Lance Catalan— bookkeeper, adventure seeker, serial romantic. 

Now Keith must admit, he had become rather biased toward the Librarian (as he found himself often caught up within one of the many japes the former would pull...far too often than what seemed to be average at least) so his opinion was no longer quite objective. Much had changed since the days when Lance would glare holes into his head as he even made his presence known amongst the group known. The two had grown to have what Keith could only understand as a truce. An agreement that they both understood and accepted the other yet...Lance would keep his brooding and moodiness to himself, at least when the dark-haired prince was present. Through this “truce”, Keith found Lance was incredulously similar to himself in some respects. Lance adored the stars, Lance practically worshipped his family back home in a land called Irisa, Lance adored art. These were some of the little things Keith had learned, he hadn’t much time to stay for the bigger things. But...he did know the librarian adored the rain. When the cold gems fell from the heavens, he would fumble to open the door and take in that feeling of rainfall. He would go outside (sometimes the club with him) and just stand among it— the biggest grin spread wide upon his face and stars shining in his eyes. 

He had learned many things about the group and appreciated every one. However, he had been very careful for none of his new friends to ever know him in the least. As far as he could help, he would withhold the information of his title and birthright. However, he did allow them to know of his hatred of fairy tales which the trio often exploited. They would go on and on over the prophecy and other drool tales and Keith had no doubt that today of all days— that before the day of his eighteenth turn, would be no different. “Sorry I’m late, long day back at my home,” he muttered as he set his bag down near the leg of the table before taking his own seat.

“It’s okay. I think it’s gonna be a long day for everyone anyway,” Hunk nods softly as Keith sits down among the other three. He offers a small smile. “The village finally gets to meet the prince at the Masquerade tonight. It’s the night before we see if the prophecy is about this one.” Keith rolls his eyes at that. 

“Which it’s not. Because it’s not real, only a fable,” the Prince sighs. As Pidge began to open her mouth in rebuttal, Keith counters before it even leaves her mouth. “And neither are witches!” Hunk chuckles as Pidge muttered a quiet touche.

“Good to see you’ve kept on your toes, Keithy,” She smiles.

“Anyways let’s not talk about the Royals tonight, I’ve already had my fill with making the cake for the celebration,” Hunk pats Keith back in that comforting manner.

“Tell me what we’re actually going to discuss today?” Keith smiled softly before the librarian spoke up for the first time since he had arrived. 

“But I like talking about royal asses,” Lance complained, “I really want to talk about how gorgeous the queen is.”

“Can we really not?” Keith scrunches his nose up in disgust. Lambent, he hates when people talk about his mother that way. “I’m really cut for time today, okay? I’d really like to discuss this book and not your sexual frustration for once before I have to go. Seriously, Lance, if I have to hear about Nyma,” Keith proceeds to pull out that perfect pouty face to mock Lance’s lovestruck look. “The most perfect girl to ever exist! once more, I will stab myself. And then proceed to bleed over this freshly cleaned library you are so proud of.”

“Gruesome, much today? You disappear for weeks on end and come back with such a sour mood, Mullet. What have the aliens done to you?”

“It wasn’t aliens,” the raven-haired boy sighed out. “Though that would have been a much-welcomed break. I’ve been busy with work in all honesty.”

“What work?”

“What? Did you think I didn’t have some sort of job? How did you think I survived?” Lance shrugs slightly. In all truth now Keith was just baiting for a bit more time to come up with some sort of lie to tell the skeptical group. 

“I don’t know just never talk about your work. Where do you even work at?”

”I’m uh I am uh an event planner. I had to assist with throwing the Prince’s party tonight,” Keith eventually managed to stumble out. Gods, how had he managed to not be found out thus far?

“Seriously?” Pidge asked incredulously, grabbing a piece of bread from the middle of the table prior to slathering it with Hunk’s new concoction of a spread. “I somehow don’t see that.”

“Well it’s the truth,” Keith sticks his tongue out. “Anyways!” He smiled softly quickly getting to the change of topics, trying to avoid any further questions over his fictional work. He opens his book glancing over the pages. “How have you all been since I’ve been out?” 

“Well, Lance was especially moody since you’ve been gone,” Hunk chuckles. 

“Hunk!” Lance squeaks as his neck and ears turn a brilliant shade of red. 

“What? I’m only telling the truth, buddy.” Keith chuckles, turning his head to look at Lance directly. He smiles slyly and props his head up, putting his cheek in the palm of his hand.

“You missed me, Bookkeeper?” He asks amused as he was at last Feast of Jinipan, watching Lance fail to flirt with a great deal of villagers. “And here I thought you despised me.”

“I don’t despise you— I just find you to be that one somewhat annoying friend,” Lance groans as Keith chuckles quietly, resulting in an elbow jutting into his side from Lance. “But hey Pidge’s brother came home from his quest last week!” And thankfully for Lance, Katie’s eyes light up and she goes into a great spill over her brother being home. 

“Did he bring you back the thing you wrote to him over?” Keith asked tilting his head slightly, he must admit he was very intrigued by what the Knight had written him about a while back.

“Yes! He brought me the amethyst chalice from the courts of the Pirate Queen!” She smiles widely. “Apparently he had to write the Prince about it first because the King of Blancoseni is very protective over her and the Prince had to write to both of them explaining it was for me so it’s astounding I managed to get it at all.”

“That’s great!” Keith smiled at her happily, it hadn’t taken too much convincing to get them to send it along with Matthew. Keith had gone to study in the Pirate Queen’s court when he was roughly ten turns, and thankfully he had been one of her favorite court members. 

“It’s great having him back, but now this definitely means I have to wear a dress tonight.”

“I’m sure no one would care if you wore some of your brother’s old clothing. And what about you and Allura, Hunk? You were both pretty ill last time.”

“We’ve been fine, my twin is back to overworking herself as always. She actually has an appointment with the royal family today as well. I think the prince is getting a trim before the ball?” Keith nods happily, listening to them all jut into each other's sentences as they begin excitingly talking about the ball. Keith had quite honestly been right the first time he had met the trio. He loved their presence and quite simply thrived from even being around them all. They were exactly what his rather dull life had ordered. He hadn’t felt at peace at all these past few weeks until he had come here. Now he could finally relax and be with his people. He does so until he hears that cold, snarky voice.

“Your Highness?” An all too familiar voice called out, as Keith heard the beads of the front door move aside. The rippling echo barely filling the confused, pregnant silence. Keith felt his body freeze up as he heard the metal clang of boots trek across the wooden floor, slightly jumping when he heard the chime of the bell. 

“I think I should go ahead and head out. Keith quickly puts his book down and goes to put his cloak back on. 

“What? Already?” Lance groans. “Why so soon?”

“Work.” Keith says quickly, “I’m borrowing this. Gotta go.” Keith puts his head down, heading quickly towards the door with the book. 

“Wait! Keith, hold up a second!” Lance says, but it’s too late— Keith was already trying to get out as quickly as humanly possible. Especially since he can hear the metallic footsteps stop and seemingly turn around. Keith is power walking outside, determined to not be caught by his knight. Not today at least. 

Or that’s what the prince thinks. Until he falls.

Face forward. 

Into the mud. 

And when he finally gets turned around, there’s an Irisian moving to pin him to the ground. As he’s finally able to open his eyes, he’s greeted with Lance’s smiling face as he laughs. “My Sehtholes, you look a lot better with mud in your face.”

“Lance, get off of me!” Keith mutters, unable to push him off— who knew this librarian would be that muscular. He squirms beneath Lance, much to the others amusement. Then suddenly lance did move off of him rolling to the side and stopping just nearby.

“It’s a good thing you decided to listen to him,” a cold voice said Lance could see now the point of an all too familiar sword pointing at the librarian's neck. He gulped and quickly scrambled to his feet looking to the two— his knight looking over the librarian before side-eyeing the Prince. “Are you alright?”

“Of course he’s alright, you numbskull!” Lance shouts back, drawing a crowd.

“Silence!” He moves to press the blade closer to the Irisian’s neck. That is until—.

“Hey!” Keith finally found his strength as he pushed himself between the bookkeeper and the knight. He pushed the blade away with the palm of his hand, ignoring the worried look he received from his friends. The knight gasped in shock and leaned back as quickly as his body would carry him, on the other hand, Lance looked astonished, if not impressed. 

That is until Keith realized he was just exasperated that he hadn’t got to land his blow on the knight. “Keith? What in the name of Sehtole are you doing?”

“I wish I knew,” Keith found himself whispering in reply as fast as he could then going straight back to maintaining that hard glare. Lance was about to interject when suddenly the arrogant knight fell to his knees— much to the gathering crowds shock. 

“But, your majesty!” There was definitely quite a few more shocked gasps from the ever-growing surroundings. Keith was growing even more frustrated as Lotor pulled this stunt. “He had pushed you to the ground!”

“It’s rough-housing, you dunce!” Keith groans, running a hand through his hair. He looked down at Lotor and the bile rose in his throat. He rolls his eyes, “And if I remember correctly the last time I was sick and we had spared, you pinned me. If you have such problems with someone else doing so— so much that you put your blade to their neck; it would be better for you to take your own life on this spot.” His eyes narrow and the air runs cold. “Put your sword up.”

“But sir—!”

“But nothing! Put away your weapon and walk away!” Lotor gulped quietly and put his sword back into his scabbard. He bows his hand and stands. “Now walk. I’ll be with you in a moment out on the edge of the village. Wait there and keep your mouth shut. Don’t move an inch.” After a moment's hesitation and a few more seconds of a glare— the night trudges off into the midst of the surrounding crowd. The Prince sighs softly, wiping most of the mud from his face with the end of the cloak before letting his hands fall to his sides. “Right,” he mutters softly. “Now to address this.” Keith turns around and offers a hand to Lance who is looking at him utter shock along with his other two friends. “Let me help you up?”

Lance looked at him and muttered some gibberish under his breath, causing Keith to tilt his head. Lance silently takes his hand and Keith feels frozen for a moment. Electric shocks shoot up from his arm, coursing through his veins. It takes a few moments for him to remember that he’s trying to help the librarian up. Keith pulls him up and stays still allowing the librarian to steady himself. “I guess I ought to rightfully thank you for hiding me those first few weeks,” Keith says somewhat awkwardly. He offers a soft smile to the other. 

“What? You’re—?” Lance fumbles to say. 

“I knew you couldn’t have been an event planner!” Pidge squeaks out. 

“Well, it wasn’t really a lie. I’ve been responsible for planning tonight,” he laughs softly. “I’m sorry I had to mislead you in the first place. Anyways I think I have an address to make. I hope to see it tonight. Perhaps I can explain more then?”

“Yeah, that sounds uh good—“ Hunk manages to get out moving to support Lance who seemed borderline out of it. Lance mutters some more gibberish and Keith suddenly realizes his hand is still holding Lance’s. Keith tries to subtly pull his hand to his side in a hurried manner looking away to a book on the ground. 

“I’m uh going to borrow this.” Keith turns around to the huge crowd of villagers— and takes a deep breath. “Hello, as most of you know by now: I’m Keith, the second son of Queen Kroila and King Tenniah. I am sorry I have had this hidden the past two turns, but as you all probably know my brother is quite paranoid about my wellbeing.” This earned a few laughs from the crowd. “I just apologize for the actions of my Knight as well. I’m afraid he’s quite the loon. However, the only way I’m afraid I can make it up to you is to invite the whole of you into the castle tonight— to taste the wonderful food the baker has prepared and refreshments that have been prepared by the whole of this village.” A loud cheer erupts from the crowd as Keith offers a soft smile. “Now then, I should head on.” 

Despite what Keith had planned, he ends up among the villagers for longer than he had expected. He talks with them for more than a passing moment— answering questions, telling him stories of his times in the village when he was just a young thing. It’s been a varga by the time he meets Lotor by the edge of the scenic town. The knight severely disgruntled. “Oh calm yourself, no one would have thought twice about it had it not been for your temper,” Keith sighs walking behind Lotor eyeing the horizon that was still that soft shade of blue, nowhere close to the lavender deadline. 

“That’s ironic coming from you,” the knight scoffs quietly. “Your temper is far worse than mine and you it.”

“I don’t draw my sword on my people,” Keith says, glaring a hole into the back of his knight’s head as they walk into the forest line. “Is Allura meeting us here?”

“He was attacking you!”

“He was not, you absolute dunce.”

“And besides, who is Allura?”

“Allura is the hairdresser,” Keith mutters, looking over his shoulder as they travel further into the wood. He was getting that sinking feeling of someone watching them pass.

“Oh, then yes. She was to meet us there.” Keith nods slightly following now. As they travel further and further into the woods, Keith couldn’t help but watch the passing surroundings— taking in the beauty of the nature around him. He took in the changing colors of the falling leaves about deep reds and vibrant yellow, purples, and oranges. The deep green moss on the light grey trees with the green and yellow grass erupting around the tree’s roots. Keith wonders if he might somehow be able to climb up and see into the nests up in the high branches— Lotor was going on about something probably unimportant. Maybe lecturing him about running off again? As they arrived at the clear blue waterfall, Keith’s eyes were transfixed on the water. He was only interrupted in his gaze with having Lotor snap in his face. Keith blinked and looked at his knight, cocking an eyebrow. “Have you heard anything I’ve said?”

“Not really,” Keith shrugs much to Lotor’s ever-growing disappointment. From the corner of his eye, he sees Allura stand up from next to the pool at the mouth of the creek where the water fell. Her head tilts in confusion as she approaches. 

“Keith?” She asked, Keith gave a small wave. 

Before he could even say a simple greeting— Lotor asserts, “You are to call the Prince by his title or by the proper phrasing.”

“No,” Keith sighs as Allura cocks an eyebrow. “No. Keith is perfect.” He looks to Allura in that pleading way of please, dear Lambent save me from this very moment. “Lotor, why don’t you go get some berries or something?” Lotor grumbles, but goes off and obeys.

“So you’re the prince?” Allura asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah, sorry.” He says quietly. “Should I go ahead and um?” Keith really cursed his awkwardness, he really just needed to know if she could turn around so he could get into the water. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for and yes, I would advise so,” She chuckles, turning around. “Hunk owes me a new necklace now.”

“You knew?” Keith asked, his jaw falling slack. He had managed to slip out of his shirt and cloak by then. 

“I told you, I am magic.”

“And I told you magic doesn’t exist.” Keith rolls his eyes as he finishes stripping himself and goes to submerge himself in the pool. He emerges moments later, shaking his head to try and get the water out of his ears.

“Are you sure you want to tempt fate so close to your birthday?” Allura chuckles, coming and leaning next to the edge. She prepares her supplies, running a hand through Keith’s now wet hair. “Now then your highness, why not tell me what’s got you so uptight?"


	3. A Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince of Stars is going through some troubles with the King of the Void.
> 
> (The actual kidnapping doesn't happen for another chapter, rip.)

Keith bites his lip, bowing his head. He knows exactly what’s going to be said as Lotor swings the door open. His knight does this every time the Prince even sneaks out into the garden of the night. He follows through methodically, rhythmically going through the motions of the scolding he is about to receive. The heavy door cracks against the wall, a groan comes from the thrones on the other end of the room. Lotor’s heavy, heavy metal shoes stomped through the doorway as the door starts to creak shut. Keith follow’s keeping his head down.

“Oh Keith,” a soft voice sighs. Keith looks up offering a pitiful smile to the Queen Mother. What had she thought would end up happening? He was long past overdue to get in trouble for his antics, no matter how small they were. The grace period was over, his brother was about to chew him up. “What is it this time?” Keith looks up to his mother and his brother, who both look down at him with a worried look in their eyes. Most of the servants take note of the sway of the mood and quickly disperse. Keith notices he’s biting down a little harder on his lower lip before he can help it. His eyes scan over his mother first: her dark black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, gently under that crown littered with dythiamyst. Her lips were as red as the roses in the garden, her dress lavender that flows all the way down to the ground, leaving a trail of lace behind her as she made her way to her youngest child. “Are you hurt?”

“Mother, he’s obviously been up to something again,” Takashi sighs. “Little brother, what have you gotten into this time?” Takashi sighs, looking down at his younger brother. His eyes were begging Keith to just admit the truth so his knight wouldn’t have to rat him out. Keith looked at his brother, not having the will to admit it. He didn’t have the will to look into his steel blue eyes, so instead he focused on his hair. Takashi used to have dark black hair, but recently the tips had been turning a bright white (Keith had assumed it was from the stress of being King.) His skin was almost as pale as Keith’s own and the dark obsidian and chanclimond crown only accented the King’s somewhat ghoulish appearance.

“Nothing, Shi,” Keith sighs, finally standing up straight as if slouching alone was going to betray his lie.

“He ran away from me in the village again,” Lotor automatically corrects. Keith swears that if he had probable cause he would kill his knight on the spot at least seven times by this current point.

“Keith, you know you can’t do this,” Takashi sighs as the Queen looks at her son pitifully like in some form of understanding.

“Well I’m sorry if I’d rather not bathe with this one,” he jabs his thumb at Lotor. “Watching me and drooling as if I was venison and Kraken!”

“Keith, that can’t be helped.”

“By Jinipan it could have been! It could’ve been the first time I told you he was doing it!” 

“He’s your—,” Takashi sighs.

“That you picked out for me! Do you really think if I had a choice about this, I would choose someone just for the sake of another ally, added to the fifteen we’ve already gained, in case we go to war with the Galra?!” Keith asks, exasperated. How many times had they had this very argument? How many times had Keith tried to give a genuine reason this would never work, just to be told he was a child and to silence himself or to be more princely. Takashi simply didn’t take his comfort seriously or take him seriously at all.

“Keith,” Kroila starts in a warning tone. 

“Brother, this is your duty,” Takashi crosses his arms. He shakes his head moving to put his hand on his shoulder. He squeezed it gently, trying to keep Keith in place. A normally calming gesture felt suffocating, constricting him. “You know as the prince of—.”

“What the Sehtole does me being Prince have to do with it?” Keith can feel himself nearly growl out. “Why should I have to do this? Why is this my job? Shouldn’t I be able to marry for love and not for this?”

“Oh I regret sending you to study under Erieanna so much now,” his older brother sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Keith, you have to.”

“Why?”

“Because you do.”

“Why?”

“Because—.”

“Because you just want to stock up on arms for a war we’ve already won. You want to use me as a weapon at this point. If what you were doing was for the best of the country you would have completely ignored whatever I desired and had me marry one of the many princesses, who have been here multiple times and greatly expressed their interest. At least that way there would possibly be an heir to the throne!”

“I thought you weren’t—?”

“I am not. I’m just using it as an example!” Keith huffs in exasperation. “We all know if we ever find peace times, you plan on marrying Adam! At least if you ship me off to some princess from Lambent knows where you’ll have an heir to your succession. I would much rather that than marry someone who is much more like another annoying brother.”

“That’s enough, Keiran,” Kroila steps in as Lotor’s jaw automatically drops. Keith rolls his eyes and looking at his mother, he can feel his cheeks puffing up with frustration. Curse his old habits. “I think it best if you go up to your room. You’ve said enough. Go prepare for tonight and your brother and I shall discuss your punishment later.” Keith sighs, defeated because if his mother was against him— no one was with him.

“Yes, mother,” he gathered himself, straightening his shoulders. He regains his composure, motioning for Lotor to stay behind. It’d be better if he just was away from all this blue tape for just a while. As he approaches the door, he hears the other servants scatter away from the heavy door. Keith shakes his head, pushing it open and immediately stalking down the corridor. At least the Prince had more than one way to get anywhere in this forsaken castle: now he can get lost for a varga or so before he actually gets ready.

It had been exactly a varga before the prince had slunk back to the tower to meet with Allura and Matt, faking a smile and claiming he had been in the meeting far longer than expected. He asks Matt to please go to the King’s side as he was requested, he curses his monotone voice for giving him away as Matt’s expression suddenly changes to one of understanding and pity. Everyone in the castle knows how much Keith hates this plan. He nods and quietly excuses himself from the room. “Sorry for taking so long,” he sighs offering an apologetic smile to Allura before going into his closet to change. “There were security matters to discuss at the ball.”

“Oh? What’s wrong?” Allura asked, Keith could hear her digging out her tools from the giant silk bag she lugged around.

“Nothing per se,” he shrugs. “I mean there’s nothing really to worry about tonight— for those who believe the prophecy at least. It’s not actually my turning.” Keith calls out as he struggled to get on his shirt, curling up the much too big sleeves to where you could only just see the palms of his hands and the nails that Allura had taken the time to manicure in the stream earlier.

“Ah, so you held the ball a day in advance because?”

“Because my brother is paranoid over an alliance and he thought it would be safer to hold it tonight.” He nearly trips pulling up the all too tight black pants.

“But I don’t understand what that has to do with you or the prophecy.”

“It’s quite simple really,” Keith sighs, stepping out back into his room. “My brother has plans to make an alliance with Arus by wedding me off to the prince.”

“But I thought he was dead?” Allura asks as Keith fixed the finger strap of the lace hanging off his shoulder. He sits down on the vanity as Allura comes over to start with his hair.

“As does most of the world, but when no one had thought Emperor Zarkon of Diorsia drove his broadsword through him that he may have missed. Luckily a villager named Honerva found him and brought him to the medic here and town. I think he washed up on a boat? So as an agreement I marry him, we go back to Arus and then we aide Els’rawand and Biorsia in taking down Diorsia. That’s the plan.”

“I take it you don’t like the plan?”

“Never,” he groans. “And you wouldn’t either if you knew him.”

“Then why don’t you just say no?”

“Because, Allura,” He sighs softly. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

 

“Because as Prince, as a royal in general, it is my duty to do what is best for my people. If my brother believes this is the best path for our country to take, I’ll take it if it just means that I can see the country grow and prosper… But that doesn’t mean I won’t go down kicking.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” Allura says softly, threading three beads into each braid.

“That’s kind of the point,” he smiles softly at her through the mirror. Keith thinks that this is the first time Allura hadn’t smiled back. It’s silent for a few moments as Keith looks away, watching as Allura made another small braid from the parallel side of his forehead. 

“So would you rather just not get married?” 

“Well, I never said that,” Keith’s eyes fall onto the mask sitting in front of him. He runs his fingers over it, trying to keep from going back into that oh so familiar daydream he had had since he was young. One of dancing the night away with a handsome stranger, of falling in love and having someone who cares more about that than a title or a treaty or war. Lambent, he couldn’t start thinking of that now. “But it can’t be helped, love mostly isn’t for royalty. Unless you’re one of the two exceptions I know of.”

“So no matter what happens, according to the prophecy, you’re doomed.” At that, Keith can only laugh as Allura put the white rose connecting the two of the braids; it was tragically comedic to him at least. 

“I guess I am.”

Night falls early that night, the clatter of servants and wait staff bustle about the entire castle. Most of the other heirs have already made their way to the lineup, all but two. A certain Prince of Stars was running his speech to his “date” for the third “last” time. Keith had melted away from his normal facade as he attempted to repeat all the words for the half dozen times he had practiced and those he missed were filled in for him by his Knight who was so kindly correcting him as he flipped through the book the former had gotten from the library. Lotor obviously didn’t have any respect for the love story in front of him, judging by that disgusted expression and how he had tossed it up onto the bed.

“Keith, why are you so bothered by this speech?” He groaned looking at Keith as he finally stood up.

“I have to address the entire country and the children of all our allies. Who in Sehthole would not nervous?” Keith found himself answering, messing with some of the golden embroideries on his corset. 

“You just gave a speech to an entire village earlier! How is this any different?”

“I know those people! And their opinions of me aren’t going to affect the peace of this country during my brothers rule! It is almost completely different! If I mess up, I could cause war or some other atrocity just by telling the wrong joke!” Keith puffed out his cheeks once more, reminding Lotor of a fish he had seen a total of thrice in the kitchen. The prince continues his mutterings as he comes across a total of possible scenarios that could lead to the entire extinction of Reflectierada. 

“Keith, baby,” And that one-word managed to freeze Keith’s rampant thoughts as he tries to register the pet name. “I need you to take a deep breath. You’re overreacting again.”

“What..?” Keith goes to ask, words slowly forming in his brain. “What did you just call m—?”

“Baby?” Lotor offers. “I figured we’re technically courting now, lead alone engaged. Why shouldn’t I call you by a pet name?” Keith looked for a logical explanation for why this bothered him so much.

He couldn’t find one and settled on, “Because it’s strange?”

“You don’t sound too sure.” Lotor chuckles as he notes, watching as Keith puffs his cheeks out for a third time that day. “Anyways, you’ll do fine. It will only be a few people, you gave an excellent speech earlier from what I hear, and no matter what you have entire guard right there.” Keith could not list the reasons why this did not help. “So let’s head on out to the other’s grab your mask and force a smile on your face.” 

Keith rolls his eyes at Lotor but does as told, tardiness is looked down upon after all. He follows him down twisting curving halls until they arrive at a circular wall with three separate doors— going around what was way more than necessary for a ballroom. If the prince remembered correctly each door was about one-hundred steps apart from the other. Behind each behemoth, redwood door was the grand balcony and a wide staircase that was big enough for hundreds of men and women to traverse. Keith thought it was rather silly the royal families all insisted on going down two at a time. He heard a trumpets fanfare begin as all the dates went to their opposing lines on the right or left of him and Lotor. All the princes and princesses got perfectly in line and did their best to seem even snobbish than those in front of them, Keith tried to keep from rolling his eyes (he really did.)

The announcements soon silenced the buzzing crowd, all eyes facing the staircase leading down into the ballroom. One by one he heard each long title called and each person add a name to their already long list. One by one, he heard the heavy doors opening and closing for the royal guests: he counted one, then two. He heard faint names called out among them announcing the presence of two countries as they escort each other, all that was left was Diorsia and Biorsia. 

If Keith estimated correctly, he had thirty seconds to get himself calm and collected. The Prince put his mask up to his eyes, tightening it once more. Just for safety measures. He took a deep breath in, Lotor taking Keith’s hand as the prince straightens his posture. He tried not to grimace as Lotor intertwines their fingers.

He holds it, closing his eyes in one more chance to allow his mind to be prepared for the crowd he was about to face. It would roughly be three times that of earlier at the very least. He imagined all the people watching him as he delivered his speech, his promise to his country. Unlike his brother, he would never be king of Els’rawand: and Keith was more than content with that but he had a duty to serve them. He would make sure they knew that was his intention at its very core. He would see his friends at some point of the night. He could see Hunk and Pidge one last time at least before he had to go. And of course he would see piercing blue eyes staring at him from the crowd, and maybe that could be enough for Keith. 

He exhales, relaxing knowing it will be. Romance wasn’t for royalty (well unless you were the Pirate Queen, but she was an exception to almost every rule she had taught him) and Keith had a duty to fulfill. After all, Lance had only barely managed to be friends with Keith before he found out he lied, there was no chance for him to be like the men in the novels Keith had read. It was a silly notion, to begin with anyways: after all, it was just fiction. 

Finally the last two names on the guest list are called, “Now our star of the evening,— Prince of Stars, Keiran Stoneshire of Els’rawand: the second born son of Queen of Suns, Kroila Stoneshire and King of Moons Tenniah Kingsley-Stoneshire, brother of our crowned monarch King of Void, Takashi Stoneshire. Tonight he is escorted by Lotor Dinate of Arus, the personal knight of the Prince.” Keith smiled kindly to the crowd, stopping Lotor and bowing to the people before they moved on down the steps. 

Lance stood in awe at the sight of the prince— whose name is not even close to what the other had been told. He had half thought Keith (or should he call him Keiran now? Or prince or your majesty?) would have thrown out all convention and came down in rags similar to what he had worn to book club. Draped in clothes filled with holes, faded colors that only served to accent how pale Keith was. He had no expectation for that boy to actually resemble his role in any way, shape or form. He didn’t expect for the stoic boy to be wearing a pearlish white shirt, buttoned up to cover the just under the top of his chest. He didn’t expect a red corset about his stomach and waist (it didn’t seem to disfigure him in any way, just outline how fit the prince actually was underneath those normal baggy clothes.) He didn’t expect the almost see-through lace wrapping over one shoulder and tied around his neck and his middle finger on his free hand. He didn’t expect that black mask, covered in what looked like gold branches and the upper fin covered in roses of every hue. He didn’t expect the other to look exactly like someone who demanded respect, someone who looked royal.

Lance, at first, didn’t notice his staring at their friend until Allura elbowed him. He felt somewhat like a fool as he pointed this out. He shakes his head and focuses back on the stage as Keith made his way up, letting go of his knight’s hand. The Queen stands, meeting her youngest halfway across the stage. He smiled at her, a soft look in his eyes. Lance had never seen him look like this before. She smiled, cupping his cheek in her hands— Keith was so small compared to his family, it was really quite funny. She tucked his dark back behind his ears, revealing a golden earring: “You look stunning, my dear.” The crowd hears her say fondly, they silence looking at the beloved royal family.

“I had to get my looks from someone, mother,” he chuckles. She smiles then gently kisses the top of his head. The Queen looks over at Takashi who holds a cup in his hands. 

“Are you ready for this?” His older brother grins to the younger who can only force a smile back.

“As I will ever be.” The King hands his younger brother a chalice filled to the brim with a deep blue liquor. A right of passage at the crownings of Els’rawand, “a potion of protection” or something of those lines. Keith carefully takes the chalice into his hands, looking out to the crowd who all stood to watch with curious eyes. Takashi smiles to Keith as he turns to face them all, stepping to the edge gracefully in an attempt to not spill the liquor. 

“Now, a few words from the Prince before the dancing begins,” The Queen smiles softly, eyes falling on her youngest.

“Well, first of all, I feel as if I should start by saying, I have never been the best at public speaking. Of course, that is rather hard to practice within the privacy of castle walls. I’d have to say it’s the only course I have ever failed if you could fail tutoring,” he jokingly says, gripping onto his chalice. A shy smile creeps onto his face as he finds a mark on the wall to make eye contact instead of the people he’s addressing. He earns a few laughs from the Royals at least.

“Second, I don’t really enjoy going by ‘Prince’ or ‘Keiran’ it’s a bit too pretentious for my taste. So if you wouldn’t mind terribly, I would much rather go by Keith. Finally, I can get to the actual points of my speech. Let me say it’s an honor to have all of you here, and I’m not just saying that to my fellow blue bloods (though it is great to have you here.) I’m mostly talking to you, my people. The great people of my country who make it so: the kind-hearted farmers to the sweet seamstresses to the humble miners. You are all here tonight, and I wouldn’t ask for it any other way. 

As most of the village knows, I’ve been lurking around the town almost every week for the past couple turns. Isolation, I’ve learned, was something I was never destined for. I’ve met a great deal of you and I’m very lucky that I managed to seemingly befriend some of you: I can only hope my ruse didn’t forsake the trust you had in me. If you wouldn’t mind I would like to talk about some of the things you all have taught me.” Keith grins widely as he continues, finally captivating the whole of the audience. He speaks well of several families in the village, grinning ear to ear. As he mentions some of the villagers their friends cry out happily. “Now, I’d like to talk about the group who hid me in the village: away from my knight Lotor. Shall I start with the Holts?” He peers back at his brother and his mother. The Queen nods sweetly— smile as wide as Keith’s own. Takashi looks at Keith, his expression unreadable. 

“Alrighty then. The Holts are quite literally some of the brightest people I have ever met, they have been blessed by the stars of Orias: Samuel, our lead alchemist in the palace, certainly was right over the matter of his family. His son is as brave as they come and every bit as intelligent; if I had to choose a better knight for my brother, I could not. Matt is simply the best of the best: no one could get past him and of that, I have scars from sparring to prove.” That receives quite a few chuckles from the crowd as well. Matt was clearly blushing from his post. “And I must say his daughter, Katherine or Katie or as some of you know her as Pidge, the Apple does not fall far from the tree. One of these days I see her taking over her father’s position or even becoming a royal advisor. If I had authority to recruit her, I would in a heartbeat. Even if she does have quite the unhealthy obsession with bread spreadings.”

“Next, the Garrett family,” Keith smiles. “To be honest, they are the only ones I’ve seen challenge the Holts intellect. They all are so wildly creative and make such stunning creations, especially the twins. I must apologize Sarah and Jacque— but you know I’m correct. Hunk always has some outlandish yet practical invention to show off— not only that but he can cook as well! And Allura is the only one I could possibly trust to handle this mess of hair and her inventions always seem to one-up Hunk’s own. I would hire you all if I had the option as well.”

“And the Catalan family,” Keith smiles— taking a deep breath. He hears a giggling mass from the west side of the ballroom. “What don’t I know about you? Your son is very proud of his family and I probably know way more about you than is normal due to that. While Lance is also very intelligent, that’s not the thing I would note about him first. First I would say, that although he can be a little less than kind to newcomers to his Library: he is one of the kindest and genuine people I have ever met. He’s passionate and headstrong. The only way I can put it truly into words is this statement. I have nothing but respect and admiration to one of the first people who taught me you have to earn friendship by not being a ‘Brenda.’” He looked back to his mother who was smiling kindly to the Prince: a sweet smile behind a covered mouth. 

“So I assume I should summarize what all I just said. Thank you all, thank you all for accepting me and teaching me without being aware of it. Thank you all for being the stellar, Lambent blessed village you are. And I assure you, though it is in no way repayment for your kindness, that on the night of my turn— I will not fall for the ruses of some witch. My job is to serve my people and I can’t see myself doing that from inside a coven.” That statement got many cheers from the crowd, hopefully, Keith had convinced them. 

“Now before we begin the dance— there is one more announcement to make,” Takashi speaks up finally stepping forward. As he steps forward, he places a crown of rubinathyst on the Prince’s head. Keith closed his eyes, he hoped he wouldn’t have to say this part. “As most of you know the week before you turn in our bloodline is when you choose your betrothed. Keith, would you like to announce this?”

“I have made my decision,” Keith says, just as he rehearsed earlier. His voice felt cold now, even to himself. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to do this. Keith proceeds to fiddle with the bracelet on his left wrist. “I have decided to give my hand to the Prince of Arus, my knight, Lotor Diante. We hope they accept this gesture of peace as we prepare ourselves for any plausible moment we should hear from the enemy.”

“I assure you, we will be to the aid of Els’rawand should anything occur,” Lotor smiles sweetly. He comes and takes Keith’s hand, kissing it. He smirks at his fiancé, Keith feels his stomach turn. 

“So, to say the least huzzah.” Takashi pats Keith’s back, smiling happily. Keith shakes his head slightly, smiling widely once more—trying to trick the people once more. 

“But, without further ado— friends, from both the village and from other royal families. I wish you luck on finding a dance partner tonight, be sure not to step on anyone’s toes, and remember to enjoy yourselves. I would desire nothing greater than that on my first and last night a free man. Now, shall we dance?” Keith heard the cheers break out among the crowd, a small smile falling on his lips. If nothing else, he was relieved he could let them rest easy knowing that for the one night he was theirs: he had given them some form of joy. He smiled to them, lifting up the chalice in one hand. He raised the ruby rim to his lips and downs the drink.

Maybe a little liquid courage was all he would need to make it through tonight anyways.

Or the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, peoples who are actually reading this. I just wanna say thank you for putting up with my very, very inconsistent updates and everything. I'm hoping to get another one shot in one this series soon as an apology for that but till then if any of you are interested I am making a quick guide to the deities of this world on my tumblr. 
> 
> If you're interested or have any questions at all you can find me here: https://supella-remains.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you all so much!


	4. A Night Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Group of Witches walk into a ball and there's no punch line.

Among the trees, a mile or so off the beaten path to town: sitting in the conflux among the multitude of flowers and herbs was a shack. It was covered in green moss on only one side and the oak wood of the other was stained near a withering bush of blackberries. It was well out of view and even if there was someone to ever come across the rickety old thing, they would think nothing of it. After all who would give more than a passing thought to a broken down and abandoned building sitting on clay bound to give in any day now. That’s all it was after all: an old, broken building being overrun by flowers and herbs. Or at least that’s all it was on the outside.

Once you waltzed in, the old shack was transformed: much bigger and much more alive than the haunted skeleton portrayed. Inside the shack was warm and inviting, slightly messy nonetheless seeing as a makeshift family of sometimes seven was hosted within its’ walls. On the right a couch expanding the entire corner and shelves lining the walls that were filled with books, jars, and knickknacks of every kind. In the middle of the room was a large spiral staircase reaching up twenty feet to a balcony with eight doors lining the walls. Along the left side wall was a large kitchen split in half down the middle, on one side a bakery and on the other was the hustle and bustle of an older man (who only had a speck of color to him, specifically his vibrant orange mustache) over a large pot of bubbling goop, stroking his mustache as he takes the out the scroll once more— “Hunk, my wonderful son, are you sure you’ve mixed this right?” Then there was a metallic clang from the other half of the kitchen, leading to cursing from the two current occupants. Hunk clamors to get a platter balanced on the counter once more.

“What do you mean?’ Hunk asked trying to juggle the three trays of cakes in his left hand as he ties Pidge’s dress with the other. She was flipping through one of the books that had previously been lying around— desperately making Plan D-ZZZ, stuffing her mouth the spread Hunk had made earlier.

“What ratio did you use? It smells long past finished.”

“We doubled everything, Coran,” Pidge says waving him off. Coran nods in response, giving it a bit of consideration. “We’re just letting it sit until Lance finishes getting ready, we can’t let it stop bubbling until time. He just won’t hurry up so we can head to the path.”

“We should have started this earlier. I told you all there was no way that it wasn’t him!” Hunk huffs, sitting down the cakes for only a moment to try and safely tie Pidge’s corset— just tight enough to hide anything that she thought she may need tonight. “Keith was so obviously the Prince.”

“I know, I know my boy,” Coran sighs, moving the pot off the open flame, sitting it next to him on the table. He stretches out as he looks back towards his son. “You know as well as I that you can never be too sure, we’ve had many close calls over the turns. Your father and I thought we had the right one back before the rule of Queen Tericloes. You never know with these prophecy ordeals if they mean specifics or figurative.”

“Well, yes,” Hunk sighs, sitting all the cakes down as Pidge moved to put the book back on the shelf as she has finished refreshing herself. She quickly pushes open the window, leaning over to grab some of the few blackberries left on the withering tree. “But still if we had assumed, then we could have started ahead of time.”

“But if we had and we were wrong, we would completely run dry. Hunk, we needed to be very careful with this. If we were wrong, we’d be doomed.”

“I know, I know. Especially since the prophecy,” Hunk sighs softly. Coran shakes his head and comes to pat his son’s shoulder. Fatherly reassurance and all that. He snaps his fingers and the icing liners fly up to action. 

“They look delicious, what are they flavored with?”

“Well we have multiple flavors,” He smiles softly, “I tried to plan them out on the assumption Keith likes sweets and he may not have had time to eat. So black cohosh seeds, agrimony, avocado, licorice, lemongrass, orange, and chamomile because he was a little uptight after what happened earlier.”

“Why avocado if you were aiming for traditional sweets?”

“I found out the prince has many bizarre tastes when he’s exhausted. Avocado seems to also be a go-to stress food.”

“You are so prepared, your other father would be so proud!” Coran gushes over his son.

“I still can’t believe the rest of us didn’t figure it out sooner,” the girl scoffs, biting into one of the blackberries as she passes them out. “Is Lance almost done? We need to get heading out, we are supposed to be there in a varga. By Deamt we don’t have time for this,” Pidge mutters. Hunk shakes his head, sighing.

“Hey, you don’t need to rush perfection,” Lance’s voice jokes as he’s sliding down the rail of the spiral staircase. “It takes work to be this handsome.” He smirks spinning around, just wanting to show off that tight fitting tux with a long black tail. His hair was perfectly slicked back, a dark blue bowtie sitting perfectly below his Adam's apple. 

“Hurry up, do it so we can go. Everyone is ready but you!” She fusses, throwing her glasses on after cleaning them furiously. 

“I still don’t understand why I have to be the one to do this,” Lance groans.

“Is it not obvious?” Hunk cocks an eyebrow.

“I thought it was,” Coran mutters. Pidge nods.

“You’re the closest to him, and you’re the only one sensible to do this with how few ingredients we have left,” Pidge sighs, “Eat this blackberry.” She tosses it to him.

“Still what if he doesn’t go for it?” Lance mutters.

“Is the Lance, the guy who claims to be Jinipan incarnate, nervous about trying to get a guy to fall for him?” Hunk chuckles softly.

“What?! No, of course not— just what if he doesn’t like guys that way?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Lance we’ll be dosing him up on how many love potions now?” Pidge mutters that it at least has to be nine by now and they’re about two more. “Even if he wasn’t attracted to men, he would fall for you.” Suddenly the front door swings open and Allura struts in, carrying a giant mass of dress over her shoulders. She grins widely as she stretches up, finally allowing herself to not be constrained inside her more human physical form. The life of a familiar was rough.

“I hope you’re not talking about Keith because I can assure you his attraction to a certain gender is not a problem,” She hums. “I just had a long discussion about what kind of man he’d like to marry if he had a choice. To be honest, both Hunk and you would have a good shot if you worked for it.” Allura shrugs heading up to the stairs. 

“So why—?” Lance starts to interrupt.

“But it’ll be easier for our resident flirt to get him to fall under.” She calls as she disappears into her room.

“Fine, fine,” He sighs, going over to the steaming pot. “I just need the stone and to get the perfume on me, right?” He asked, looking up to Coran who shook his head.

“It’ll be better if you let me help you,” He offers. “Reach in and get the stone.” Lance nods and looks at what seems to be slime, boiling over the top of the pot. He prayed that this wouldn’t hurt as much as his brain was already telling him it would. It was a boiling cauldron of goo, after all. “Now once you have it in your hand you need to pull it to your lips and whisper the spell into it.”

“It’s the Siren one, right?” He bites his lip, looking up at Coran.

“Yessir!” Coran smiled at him, putting his hands on the side of the cauldron. “Just keep your mind on the Prince as you say it.”

“Okay, I’m ready…” Lance sighs as he quickly reaches in, searching for the stone. Barely catching it between his fingers, he pulled out his miraculously dry hand taking the soaked stone to his lips, covering it with his other hand as he fell to his knees. The goo was stinging his lips but surprisingly hadn’t burned him. He glanced up at the older familiar for a moment before closing his eyes as tight as possible. He took a deep breath before he began to recite the spell, trying to envision Keith as he does— despite the temptation to think of certain others from the village.

''My prince won’t you come and play,” Lance whispers into the stone— teasing and playful, similar to the way he would taunt Keith in the book club. He could see those deep, dark blue eyes looking up with that sheer curiosity that Keith had. Something soft always seemed to take over him when Lance caught his interest in something as he tried to get Lance to tell him more. “With me here, and forever stay?”

He could see the whole of the prince now, sitting across from him in his normal gray rags, and licorice black hair falling sporadically in every direction. He could see that soft smile that normally rested on Keith’s ample lips. The image tilts his head in curiosity. “I’m your siren, and don’t you see,” Suddenly the blackness around them shifts and he’s sitting with Keith next to a fountain— surrounded by deep purple fog. The Prince’s eyes start to shift in color to a matching violet as a red moon hung over them both. “How happy I can make you be?” Keith seems to lean away from Lance as the scene changes once more. 

This scene feels slightly different to Lance— the air is stiff. It doesn’t feel as gentle as the spell is supposed to be, as it started it out. Keith is more vibrant, wearing a deep red he was standing on a balcony that overlooked the fountain they were just at moments ago. He was clutching the book he had got from the library earlier like it was his only lifeline to anything real. He wasn’t crying, Lance noted, but he looked like he was upset enough to. Lance acted on impulse, allowing himself to move closer to the Prince. He tried to be as comforting as he could on this level, watching as Keith’s stiff shoulders slowly fell to a more relaxed pose as his hand found the others back. The normally curious look in sky blue eyes had been exchanged for a pained, empty glance in violet. Lance has to clear his throat as he continues to whisper the spell, so close now he could whisper directly into Keith’s ear. “Now turn to me, prince, and fall,” he finds the playful words falling out of him, just as he had memorized for turns now. He watched the way Keith sways slightly as he finally begins to relax. “Tomorrow night you give me all,” he says it in such a way it could be taken as a casual reminder and not as ominous as it truly was.

“Feel your will drift off, no trace,” He says, watching for any changes in Keith. It comes as a shock as the other actually turns around— towards where Lance is. He seems confused as if he’s overthinking what is happening. As if he was aware of Lance standing there, which was completely impossible considering that wasn’t how magic works. “Heart and mind gone, my will in place.” Lance moves his other hand to Keith’s cheek, feeling Keith relax further and further. Maybe his constantly running mind wouldn’t be as much of a problem as Lance had originally thought. After all, the Prince was highly responsive to the plane— if he was half this responsive when they were on the same level, their job may just be a little easier. Lance sighs softly in relief as the next two lines left his lips.

 

“Overcome with willful desire, only I can quench your fire.” The scene changes once more, and so does Keith— and as does Lance’s own position. Lance’s vision has blurred slightly, starting to lose his connection to the plane. He tried to focus back on his goal, back on the mission. But it was so hard now that his skin felt like it was burning— that was probably the goo in the reality they lived in. He looks back at Keith, his eyes have faded back to blue and tears seem to well up in them from what Lance can see from his position over top of him. His hands were holding onto Keith’s own, well above his head. Keith was looking up at him with parted lips and wide eyes. His hair was messy and he appeared to be wearing some light, see-through carnation colored lace. It almost looked like he was blushing from his ears down as far as Lance could see. Next to their hands, the witch could see a broken quartz pendant to the side. Keith tilts his head slightly, clearly trying to say something, but not quite getting it out. The witch can clearly make out that Keith has mouthed his name out. But that’s all he could. But something felt so different about this image, and it was something Lance wanted to know about. It was too hard to focus now, as his skin was burning and he can feel the goo pouring down him. Lance had to hurry, trying to remain eye contact with Keith, trying to diagnose that emotion brewing in his eyes. He whispers out the last two lines, quickly— memorizing this moment. “Now with the sirens’ chiming song: come now to me, where you belong.”

And just like that, Lance came back to reality. He feels like his skin is about to burn right off melt along with the goo falling down his body. All the water that had felt like it was drowning him, condemning him to meet Lauranny and Lambent much too early in his life. But he wasn’t wet, he wasn’t burning. Lance was completely dry, though the floor around him was soaked. His eyes snap open, breathing going uneven as he pulled the stone away from his lips. He immediately feels himself being wrapped in a giant bear hug.

“Oh, my Lambent!” Hunk sighs in relief. “You scared the Sehtholes out of me. Are you okay?” Hunk asked hurriedly as he squeezed the small amount of breath out of him. “I think you literally started to pale out and you were barely breathing.”

“How far did you even go? I know your powers are dodgy as Deamt’s Herself, but you literally looked like your soul was about to leave your body altogether.” Pidge adds quietly, clearly taking mental note to write down later.

“I don’t know, I know I got to the castle in real time— I saw him, I interacted with his atmosphere. But after that, my connection started to fade and I went into some sort of fantasy of his or maybe it was something from the past or future?” Lance sighs, scratching the back of his neck. 

“You really need to find some way to control your abilities,” Allura adds, jumping down from the balcony railing, landing on her feet directly behind the couch. That was undeniably hot. “You may be powerful when it comes to magic without the help of a familiar but that doesn’t mean you can go around sporadically, not knowing the dangers you put yourself in when a spell goes awry.”

“Allura, you are as smart as you are stunning,” and it was true on many levels. Lance didn’t know many women who could pull off such an elegant pink dress, but here Allura was and as gorgeous as ever. It was times like these that made Lance forget why they had broken up in the first place. “But you know as well as I do that it is impossible. I’ve tried everything.”

“But actually working for it. Honestly, Lance, I feel as if I have treated you like a little brother a majority of the time.” And there it was. That’s the reason. “Anyways, did the spell work? My fathers talked about it for so long it would be a let down if it wasn’t spectacular.”

“Well, let’s see about that,” Coran smiles, looking down to Lance, full of pride.

“Okay,” Lance gulps. He tries not to hesitate as he slowly unclasps his hands. He tries to not be freaked out by the dirt falling in between the small gaps created. The others quickly come to lean in and look at a small heart-shaped see-through pink gem was revealed in Lance’s hand.

After a few dobashes of silence, Hunk begins to ask: “Uh what is i—?” Before being interrupted by a loud gasp as Coran snatched the gem from Lance’s hand.

“Lance, my boy, it’s perfect,” Coran grins widely, digging around in his pocket until he found something, a golden pendant— “What you’ve done is create Rose Quartz! It’s a material from OtherSide, witches on that side of the spectrum use it often to amplify feelings of affection. And even its’ shape is perfect for its purpose!” Coran smiles, popping the gemstone into the golden pendant, one that felt vaguely familiar to Lance. “With the spell you cast, it should be impossible for Keith to resist any magic you use tomorrow night.” He drops it by the chain in front of the former, holding onto it only by a finger. Lance slowly reaches up and takes it from the old familiar. Looking over it, curiously running his fingers over it.

“Anyways,” Pidge says, snapping Lance out of his abyss of thought. “The four of us should be heading out soon, right? We need to set up the food and give Keith the present before anyone can figure this out. Matt can only cover for us in a very small window of time. We need to be heading out within the next thirty ticks.”

“Wait, before we go,” Allura calls out, picking something up from off the couch. “We need to be inconspicuous, and it’s a masquerade so I picked us up some masks for us all.” She smiled handing each of the masks she had: a yellow bauta for Hunk, a green Medico Della Peste for Pidge, a blue columbina for herself, and to Lance a white phantom mask with a mix of blue and purple hues creating what looked like the night sky. Lance rather liked it, it covered a good seventy-five percent of his face as he put it on. “You all look stunning,” She grins as Lance looks around at the others. It truly was way different from the norm for them.

“Well now that that’s handled, we should head that way?” Pidge sighs.

Coran waves them off as they wander further from the cabin, stretching before shifting down into his full familiar form— an old greying calico. He could only pray to Deamt for this mission to go successfully.

And just like that, they were on their way to the ball, splitting up a while away from the village in order to ease suspicion and meeting back on the mass wooden drawbridge leading into the outer walls of the castle. 

Lance couldn’t help but ogle at the massive stones making up the giant walls. He tried to take it all in as he followed shortly behind the other three of his group. He looked at the path lined with spiraling brass candles and ornate window on the actual castle, he could see a garden on the leftmost side of the castle that was obviously well maintained and loved. As they made their way inside the massive iron gate each side was lined with knights, saluting the guests in their tall golden armor: Lance was blown away by all the splendor of the castle. He couldn’t believe that Keith would ever want to be away from this life of glamour.

Lance became even more convinced of his friend’s insanity as he walked into the ballroom they were expected to dance in tonight. Walls draped in the finest tapestries a pair of thrones set up high and elevated among the crowd. Ornate, twisting stairs leading down from an overhead balcony where you could see yet another massive door. Chandeliers were elegantly hung around the room, lights surprisingly dim seeing as how much the almost pure, cream white room sparkled. Lance suddenly felt incredibly underdressed. And Lance guessed the feeling was mutual throughout most of the villagers.

Lance could already see the Queen Mother and the King getting ready, seemingly fussing over something or another. The King shakes his head and hands the mother a sparkling chalice lined with precious gemstones. The King was wiping off a crown adorned with red gems with a lavender, star-shaped gem in the center of it. Lance’s mouth dropped, not even able to imagine the cost or the beauty of some jewelry like this. The witch was stunned by all this. He had never been somewhere so high end. He was blown away that Keith lived here. The Keith that only wore rags and acted so unrefined. Rambunctious, adventurous, rude Keith lived in luxury. How was that even possible? Lance was pulled away from his thoughts by fanfare, horns blaring as a hush fell over a murmuring crowd. 

The announcer spoke clearly, calling out some long name and a million and three good deeds each pair had done as one by one the doors swung open revealing the height of glamour. He saw the peaks of splendor descend the steps. Figures of grace that just floated on air, bejeweled from head to toe in the most precious jewels from Reflierada and potentially ones from Other World. Princesses and princes from every corner of the world spilled in— each more gorgeous than the last. Lance couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was really part of this entourage of the principle of beauty and grace.

And there he was. 

“Keiran Stoneshire of Els’rawand: the second born son of Queen of Suns, Kroila Stoneshire and King of Moons Tenniah Kingsley-Stoneshire, brother of our crowned monarch King of Void, Takashi Stoneshire. Tonight he is escorted by Lotor Dinate of Arus, the personal knight of the Prince.” As the Announcer so nicely declared.

Keith most definitely fit the criteria for all a prince should be when it came to appearances.

He could hear all of his peers but Allura mutter a quiet noise of astonishment.

Lance stood in awe at the sight of the prince, himself (so it wasn’t like he could really blame them—) whose name is not even close to what the other had been told. He had half thought Keith (or should he call him Keiran now? Or prince or your majesty?) would have thrown out all convention and came down in rags similar to what he had worn to book club. Draped in clothes filled with holes, faded colors that only served to accent how pale Keith was. He had no expectation for that boy to actually resemble his role in any way, shape or form. He didn’t expect for the stoic boy to be wearing a pearlish white shirt, buttoned up to cover the just under the top of his chest. He didn’t expect a red corset about his stomach and waist (it didn’t seem to disfigure him in any way, just outline how fit the prince actually was underneath those normal baggy clothes.) He didn’t expect the almost see-through lace wrapping over one shoulder and tied around his neck and his middle finger on his free hand. He didn’t expect that black mask, covered in what looked like gold branches and the upper fin covered in roses of every hue. He didn’t expect the other to look exactly like someone who demanded respect, someone who looked royal.

The witch’s eyes are glued to his prey as they bow to the crowd, a silent greeting to those whose attention he held captive.

Lance, at first, didn’t notice his staring at their friend until Allura elbowed him. He felt somewhat like a fool as he pointed this out. He shakes his head and focuses back on the stage as Keith made his way up, letting go of his knight’s hand. The Queen stands, meeting her youngest halfway across the stage. Lance can’t help but be shocked as the Prince still manages to show such utter refinement while having what could only be described as an intimate moment with his mother.

Lance had never seen Keith like this before. He was in control, he was eloquent in his speech. As the bejeweled chalice was left in his hands, he appeared humble and gracious— not like his normally competitive and impulsive self. He was completely composed in utterly every way.

“Now, a few words from the Prince before the dancing begins,” The Queen smiles softly, eyes falling on the Prince. Keith steps forward smiling gratefully to the ever patient crowd. Lance listens to him speak: the Prince has a relatively short, yet flattering speech. One that is dedicated to the people he rules over. The witch wonders how common it is for a Prince to do this (he guesses it isn’t all that often seeing the reactions among the Royals now dispersed among the crowd.) 

Then Keith gets into individual gratitudes, to Lance and the others who have plans to take him away the next night. He goes on to thank them for all they have taught them. Pidge is blown away by the praise given to her scientific endeavors. Hunk clearly is about to start tearing up, pulling his sister close as she pats his back as he says his thank you to them. And Lance, Lance can’t help but wonder what in Sehtholes Keith is speaking of. Lance was quite possibly the rudest out of all his peers when he first met Keith, and honestly he arguably still was. Was this just the spell kicking into his system? Was that why he perceived Lance that way? Even his family had laughed at the notion. Yet no one can deny the genuine look in the masked prince’s eyes, and Lance can only wonder how Keith could still be so refined and composed while giving a speech to this many people— royal, commoner, and witch alike.

Then the King interrupted and the Prince’s posture and smile grew tight, it was unnoticeable in the stealthy way he had done so. But Lance noticed It was his job too after all. “Now before we begin the dance— there is one more announcement to make,” The King’s voice rings out, he places the gorgeous crown on the Prince’s head. “As most of you know the week before you turn in our bloodline is when you choose your betrothed. Keith, would you like to announce this?”

“I have made my decision,” Lance tries to ignore his wide eyes as he hears this announcement. The prophecy was playing out perfectly. “I have decided to give my hand to the Prince of Arus, my knight, Lotor Diante. We hope they accept this gesture of peace as we prepare ourselves for any plausible moment we should hear from the enemy.”

“I assure you, we will be to the aid of Els’rawand should anything occur,” Lotor smiles with a smile only sweetened by greed. He comes and takes Keith’s hand, kissing it. He smirks at his fiancé, Lance hopes that one of these days he has the privilege to knock the smug smile right off his face.

“So, to say the least huzzah,” The King grins in his ignorance.

“But, without further ado— friends, from both the village and from other royal families. I wish you luck in finding a dance partner tonight, be sure not to step on anyone’s toes, and remember to enjoy yourselves. I would desire nothing greater than that on my first and last night a free man. Now, shall we dance?” Keith cuts him off before he can say any more, with a small and (unnoticeably) forced smile. He raises the drink to his lips and quickly downs it as the crowd erupts into a cheer.

“And as tradition dictates,” The King of Void speaks once more, taking the chalice from Keith. “The first dance of the night will go to the betrothed.”

Lance quickly goes to Hunk’s side as the dance begins, never taking his eyes off the dance floor. Eyes glued to the Prince as he saw him ever so slightly tense as the knight placed his hand on his hip before bowing to him. Keith quickly takes a small step back. “So...this is exactly like what the prophecy says, huh?” Lance whispers quietly.

“We shouldn’t talk about that here...But yes.” He nods slightly, “Look at the way he’s moving, I think he’d rather not be there.” The dance had long since started, Lotor holding Keith close and Keith just smiling to try and mask whatever feeling was truly bubbling under the surface. Every move was stiff in the beginning, just keeping things as procedural as possible. Then the Prince relaxed slightly as if accepting fate’s hand. He offered a sad smile to Lotor that many could’ve easily believed were a look of love. But not those who knew him. No, his movements still remained jagged and stiff, punctuated by how uncomfortable he truly was.

This pattern continued for the next five dances. Even as others joined

Lance figured the best gift he could give Keith was to save him from the possessive grasp of his knight.

That’s why he decided to pounce on the chance of Keith wandering off to get something to drink.

“Wanna dance, Your Majesty?” Lance asked smugly, sneaking up behind the prince in an attempt to startle him. He was slightly disappointed in the small sigh that resulted in.

“You actually came? I expected you to skip this whole thing with how you reacted earlier.”

Lance chuckles, moving to where he could actually look Keith in the eyes. He crosses his arms and smirks to him, “Well it’s a little bit of a surprise to find out the boy who slips in and out of your library on a weekly basis is actually the sovereign prince of your country. And that you were literally just hiding from your knight the first few times you were there. On top of that, said Knight had a sword to my throat when I found out.” Keith shakes his head gently at this finally looking at him.

“How did you even know it was me?”

“I’d know your mullet anywhere, mask or no mask.” He smirks to him. “Now I believe you’ve promised me, Hunk, and Pidge a dance. Shall we?” He smirks, offering his hand to the Prince. “However, I’m taking the lead this time. Consider it payback for almost being stabbed by your knight.” The Prince rolls his eyes, taking Lance’s hand. The caramel skinned man pulls him close to him so that he can put his left hand on Keith’s hip, just to steady his partner who seemed to be slightly off balance.

“My mother is watching,” Keith mumbles. “Bless the Lambent.”

“What are you embarrassed of me?” Lance chuckles up under his breath, whispering. He’s enjoying how easy it is to get Keith riled up and can’t help but wonder if this was the result of the spell earlier. Keith is pulled closer to his chest so he could hide away if that’s what he wants to do. Keith graciously accepts.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“Don’t worry about it, Keith. Just enjoy your pre-turn.” He smiles, dancing with him. “I love the whole masquerade idea, by the way. No witch would be able to know it was you.”

“It was my mother’s idea. My brother wanted to have me secluded this entire turn, not even just the orange phase or the red cycle! Confined in the stupid tower.” The prince puffs his cheeks out, how childlike. Lance rolls his eyes at this, twirling Keith in an attempt to silence those pesky thoughts spinning around in the Prince’s head. Instead, Keith blushes so darkly with a look of surprise only showing in his eyes. Lance can’t help but be amused at how easy it was to overwhelm the prince. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t almost have me beheaded for that witch comment,” Lance chuckles, resulting in an eye-roll from Keith.

“Don’t push it there, Book Keeper,” he says softly, shaking his head. “It’s just that you all will be proven wrong come tomorrow night when some witch doesn’t come whisk me away.”

“And how can we be sure of that?” He whispers, twirling Keith again.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if you follow all the rules the royal family has held for turns, then odds are whatever witch there is may not even try.”

“I hate you and your valid debate points, did you know that?”

“Lambent,” Lance laughs. “So how are you going to prove it?”

“I can’t do much. Lotor is going to be outside my door most of the night.”

“You could leave your window open,” Lance offered. “Go and sit in it after the town has all nodded off. I’ll come check from the garden so you can prove it.”

“Lance, you’re brilliant.”

“So I’ve been told. Now, the others would like to dance with you.” He smiles, leading Keith over to the Voltron Book Club that was budding up against the wall. Keith quickly grinned joining them, telling them how happy he was that they had decided to come and briefly apologizing for not telling the group his secret earlier. (“Almost sounds as if a certain someone was scared of a prophecy,” Pidge had snickered quietly resulting in Keith attempting to hold back on elbowing her as usual.) Keith did dance with all of them, quite happily in fact. With Pidge mostly talking and leading rather than twirling about, nearly being knocked completely over by Hunk in his fit of laughter, and making sly whispers to Allura that had her cackling and whipping her head around as if to see who she was talking about.

Eventually, the life of the party became too much to hold a conversation over all the babble and the many orchestras. Each person having to shout to hold a conversation over the noise. Luckily Keith had just the solution, going to a nearby wall and carefully cracking the frame of a painting just so no one else can see. As it opened he quickly motioned the four inside, before climbing in himself and pulling back the canvas by a vine. He leads them through a dark winding candle with only the faint light of a match, humming something the whole way. When asked he would only reply with, “A song they teach every young royal in a court.” Eventually, they exited into the grand hall for of sunning red carpets and black murals of the royal family stuck onto the walls. Keith wasted no time for the four to admire them though, quickly going to a nearby door and pushing it wide open. 

Outside was row upon row of flowers, what seemed like one of every species, illuminated by lanterns hanging ever so slightly out of reach. The vibrant colors of each flower not being dimmed in the slightest by lackluster lighting. Keith grins going to sit on a fountains edge, in the middle of the garden. “This is my garden, what do you think?”

“It’s gorgeous,” Lance said simultaneously as Hunk.

“Well have a seat,” He chuckles, “And thanks, I work really hard to take care of it.” They all nod hesitant to move as if it might break this beautiful illusion. The rowdy Keith really maintain thousands upon thousands of these delicate flowers? Impossible. Pidge is the first to make a move sitting on the stone path parallel to the Prince, then Allura who sits next to him, Hunk who sits next to Pidge and finally Lance make his move. Standing next to the fountain, unable to bring himself to sit on something so beautiful.

“So uh, Lotor huh?” Pidge asks, sitting next to Keith on the sturdy stone fountain that was engraved with the prophecy itself. 

“I advise not getting me started on that. I’m about to go crazy as is.”

“What if I want it for my annual gossip salon in the bakery?” Hunk hums, which Keith rolls his eyes at him— offering a small smirk in amusement. 

“Definitely not then,” he chuckles. “I know better than to let you run your mouth there.”

“What if they swear not to tell like I did?” Allura suggests, letting her hair down to fix it once more.

“ Wait, you trusted her with this secret more than us?” Lance interjects, “What in Sehtholes, Keith? She didn’t speak to you for like a change after you told her you weren’t attracted to her!” Allura immediately starts to blush in embarrassment. 

“Well yes, that was rude, but in her words, she was just frustrated she couldn’t get her way,” Keith can’t help but chuckle at the memory of that apology and Allura nearly tackled him on spot at the laughter at her expense. “She apparently wasn’t used to that. And after all who am I supposed to talk about the village men with if not her?”

“I—!” Lance started to interject.

“I didn’t want to hear about their bedside manners—,” Keith is then cut off by Allura.

“Can you just say you don’t wanna hear about what sex is like with them?” It was Keith’s turn to deeply blush now. He turns red from the tip of his ears down to the first button of his shirt. Lance was amazed at how well the bright red brought attention to the constellations of freckles on Keith’s nose and chin. This new wardrobe was having Lance notice many things about the other.

“Er yes, that’s what I meant so I couldn’t ask the most flirtatious of this entire group.” 

“Hey! I don’t talk about sex that often!”

“My Lambent, Lance the day I first met you— you started off by asking me if I was submissive or dominate or switch. I still don’t have any trace of a clue what any of that even means, but according to Pidge’s reaction I can only think it was sexual.”

“I still haven’t got my answer on that by the way,” Lance states before his brain catches up on Keith’s wording. “Wait for a second...Keith, are you still—?”

“Okay!” Hunk interrupts quickly. “We do not need to have that discussion now!” 

“But Hunk! He’s—!”

“Waiting ever so patiently for his gift! That’s right!” Hunk says theatrically going about patting his pockets. “Allura, Pidge have you seen it?” 

“Gift?” Keith asked quietly, eyes clouding with that curiously confused look. “You all didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Nonsense!” Pidge nearly squeaks, “It’s your turn!” 

“Yeah, it’s like an obligation,” Lance sticks his tongue out at him, it was their friends turn after all! What were they supposed to do? Send him a box of rocks? Lance thrusts his hands into his pockets stubbornly, nearly jumping as he felt the pendant he forgot was in his pocket.

“It’s really not,” those cheeks of the Prince’s puff out once more.

“Lance, do you have it?” Allura begins to hint at him. Lance nods, shuffling over a bit closer to Keith— ready to test this and see if it had worked after all. He grins to the ever curious Prince as he pulls it by the chain out of its’ pocket, roughly to about Keith’s eye level. Lance can tell he’s grown slightly more curious in that militick. The Prince watches as the silver band spirals out before him before the falling pendant snaps it down. Keith’s eyes instantly latch onto the spinning pendant. Lance watches as those curious eyes, dull ever so slightly turning rather from a brilliant blue to lavender. He thanked the Gods that no one but other witches could see the effects of magic. Keith seemingly opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out as he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the gem. The Prince looked so spaced out for that moment, lost in his own thoughts (if he truly had any at that moment, from what Lance could tell Keith may fall over into sleep any second now) and truly it may have been to easy to try and take the raven-haired boy with them right then and there. 

But he couldn’t.

They would have failed then.

The relaxed look in Keith’s eyes was jerked away as Allura decided to interrupt. “Anyways what do you think?” Lance nearly jumped at the question, after calming himself he immediately checked to see if the spell was still in effect: yep, still Lavender.

“Guys, I don’t know what to say…” Keith says softly as he took the necklace in his hands, running over the pendant of the long silver necklace.

“Do you not like it?” Lance asked quietly, watching as Keith’s eyebrows shot up in alarm.

“Are you joking? I love it!” He says, instinctively clutching it tightly. “I’ve never had anything like this, it’s wonderful.” He smiles fondly at it, going to take off his mask before sliding it over his head. “It’s really wonderful, you all. Thank you.”

“Consider it repayment for the speech,” Pidge smiles to him. “It was really cool what you said up there.”

“There’s no need for that, I was only being honest.” Keith shrugs, smiling softly to her.

“Aha!” Hunk finally says, finding a small box he had hidden somewhere in his costume. “I found your other gift!”

“Wait what?” 

“The sweets I catered! I thought they would be long gone by the time you had a chance to get to them, and I was right! So I made an extra batch and thought you could have them.”

“Hunk, are you sure you’re not Ashliticus in disguise?” Hunk chuckles at this, handing him the box. “I’ll have to take these up to my chambers really quick. Now I’ll definitely have something to eat tomorrow. Thank you.” He smiles widely, to him before walking over to overgrown vines on the side of the nearest tower.

“Uh, Keith, you’re gonna walk into your own castle wall there,” Allura says, tilting her head. 

“Have a little faith in my competence,” He chuckles slightly, throwing a smug look back over his shoulder. He holds the box in one arm as he takes the mess of vines in the other. And before any of the witches know it, he’s scaling the side of the building. 

“What in the name of Sehtholes…?” Pidge begins to ask. Before Lance is done thinking of the 10,001 things that can go wrong in this particular event, Keith is in through the window then back down to the ground below him, in no time flat. How he managed to scale that then climb down safely is beyond Lance and apparently the others as well. Keith just shrugs and says he and an old friend used to do it all the time when they were younger. Pidge decides to ask him more about his life as a royal just for studies of course, not that one of them should be taking over shortly for the current crown. At this, the Prince is prompted to launch into several different stories and tales of the pros and cons of royal life then a few of his own mishaps and per-adventures along the way. They stay out here to the stroke of the clock tower can be heard faintly through town, waking Lance from whatever daydream he had long since been in.

“Well, I should probably head back,” Keith sighs softly: Lance cocks an eyebrow looking to him as the Prince hesitated to get up from the stairs. 

“Why?”

“Well, my mother’s probably looking for me. I don’t want to worry her.” Lance bites his lip gently. Keith can’t leave until he sees that the sweets did their job. “Goodnight Lance, goodnight everyone.” He turns and offers a soft smile to the book club. Lance wonders for a short moment of this could technically be called their last meeting. As Keith stands up to walk away, Lance feels himself stand and reach for Keith’s wrist. He had to do something. Keith froze up, looking back to Lance, tilting his head in that ever curious way. 

“Come on. It’s your ball. What do you say to one final dance?” He offers the best grin he can muster— without it seeming fake. Lance can literally see the gears turning in Keith’s head. He can only pray to Jinipan that—.

“I don’t see any harm in just one more dance,” his voice finally echoed through him. As if it had been an impulse he had to just let bubble to the surface in a quiet murmur.

One more dance turns into another varga worth of twirling and banter. It was truly rather enjoyable, not only seeing Keith relax for once and be himself but in essence, the whole experience that the next varga provides. Keith introduces all of Voltron to random Royals he spots, spinning and gliding by. Most notably was the heir to the union of the countries Blanconseni and Transversa, Wiebke— who was very invested in the three of them, wondering who had so desperately wanted her mother’s old chalice.

But every night of splendor has it’s chiming clock drawing it to a close.

And tonight that clock was in the form of a prince struggling to keep himself awake.

Lance felt the Prince’s energy drain since the ball had first begun (Lambent knows how many vargas ago.) The sweets may have started taking an effect on the slightly younger man. He wondered how Keith was even keeping his head up at this point. “Are you sure you aren’t too tired there, Mullet? I can take you to Locust if you’d rather head on up to bed.”

“Lance,” Keith sighs, looking at him with eyes only half open due to how tired the other seemed to be. He was still flushed pink with the liquor from earlier still heating his veins. “I can’t explain how many gruesome ways I’d prefer to be killed rather than be with Lauranny’s offspring born in the fifth circle of Sehthole-Halliellen for a single tick.” The witch can only laugh at this statement.

“Alright, alright. I get it was a bad suggestion.” Lance sighs, “What if we find the Queen instead?” 

“That’s fine,” Keith eventually sighs in response (though Lance was insisting that was a yawn.) “She should be near the balcony, you don’t have to walk me up.”

“But it’d be rude to leave you!” Lance gasps at the notion earning an eye roll from the Prince. “I am a gentleman, I’ll have you know.” The witch, of course, makes it a point to be as cheesy as possible. “Now I shall escort you to your mother.”

“Lance, for the love of all that is holy stop.”

“No can do.” Keith immediately groans, probably only just now registering that Lance has taken his hand and is currently leading him through the crowd. Lance is truly trying to keep the Prince close, maybe just to keep anyone from tripping over the long cape that was barely clinging to where it had once been tightly knotted. As they reached about halfway up the wide steps, a familiar face greets them.

Her kind smile and soft eyes meet Lance’s own. She was stunning in every way the witch could imagine. She wasn’t exactly delicate, more the build of a soldier than that of a delicate figure of a storybook queen. Her long, black hair hung loose, resting just over her shoulder. She was tall and slim, yet stood in such a posture that still demanded respect. The witch is broken out of his thoughts by the quiet voice from next to him saying, “Hello Mother.” Lance blinks quickly glancing at Keith, who still has yet to let go of his hand (however loosely their fingers intertwined.) Lance can’t help but notice the striking resemblance between the two, it was hard to tell where dobash differences must have been between them. Except for the eyes. The eyes were the only difference Lance could see between the mother and her son. The Queen had warm, brown eyes that were inviting and calm yet, observant. Her son had, what Lance could only assume to be, his father’s eyes: a bright sky blue that could only be described as energy in its’ purest form. Lance is once again stolen from his thoughts by a voice calling his name. “Lance? You okay?” 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.” He shakes his head, flushing and bowing to the Queen. “It’s a… It’s an honor to meet you, your highness.” Keith slightly elbows him, motioning for him to stand up. As he does, he’s greeted by a kind, endearing smile from the Queen.

“Lance, was it?” She smiles softly. “It’s wonderful to meet you, you may call me Kroila. Thank you for watching over my son for so long.” 

“There’s no need to—,” Lance starts to insist as Keith interrupts.

“Mother!”

“Mother nothing. Thank your friend,” Kroila says sternly, watching as Keith puffs his cheeks out in embarrassment and frustration. The witch finally feels Keith’s fingers from Lance’s own grip. His arm drops to his side instantly.

“Thanks, Catalan,” Lance snickers. Keith groans starting to stalk off beside his mother, slightly leaning against her. Lance smiles softly watching this scene. 

“Nothing to worry about, Keithy,” He calls out to him, smug as he can muster. “I’ll see you around?” Keith instantly whips his head around to face him. An instinctual snort of laughter as he smirks and calls back as the massive doors close behind the mother/son pair.

“Obviously. Prophecies are idiotic.”

“Alright, goodnight,” he chuckles. Lance turns away, making his way back to the buzzing party below. Now he has only one more objective for the night: get laid.


	5. A Mistake?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finally kidnaps Keith after some internal debating.

Morally gray. That’s how witches lived on this Side, here in Reflectierada. It seemed to be part of their unspoken code and Lance wasn’t sure exactly why that was. He doesn’t know why but he’s never met someone of his own kind who is simply good for the sake of being good nor bad for the sake of being bad. Nuance was the official language of his kin, it seemed. This was troublesome, completely and utterly so in the young witch’s eyes. That’s why he’d been pacing around one of his siblings' rooms muttering in Irisian to them about the entire complexity of this conundrum. You must understand Lance wasn’t exactly sure if he should feel guilty for what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if he should be siding with his coven or his friend. 

“On one hand, I’m betraying his trust and I’m technically the entire reason his life has been more overprotected than Sehthole-Halliellen or Sehthole-Marink and I am the whole reason the Jurimolah group exists. On the other, the entire nation and the world’s entire peace would be at stake if the prophecy is 100% accurate.”

“Well, brother dearest,” Veronica sighs, rather annoyed. She closes her book over Other Side and pushes her thick glasses up her nose. “I think you’ve already made up your mind.”

“Vi, I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m saying you knew what you’d be facing day one when you decided to volunteer yourself to be our house representative. You knew what our ancestor said and did,” Veronica swings her legs over the bed rather tiredly— as if exasperated. “You knew the ending of this story before we ever came across the sea from Irisa.”

“And?”

“And you knew the risk, Lance. You knew you were putting your own, his, and all of our lives on the line if it turned out you were the one meant to charm your way into a crown. And you accepted that risk. Nothing has changed since then— you just know the person you’ll have all over you for the next few changes. You know what his normal behavior is versus the spells you have to put on him. You won’t get attached and heartbroken like you do with all your other little ‘adventures’, now will you?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Lance lets go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looks into his sister’s dark brown eyes that are full of more wisdom than Lance thinks he’ll ever know in his life. He briefly wonders why she can’t be queen in his place of the king. 

“Of course I’m right, Lion,” Lance can’t help the involuntary eye roll at the nickname from his younger turns. “I always am.”

“You got so lucky with getting divination.”

“I really did.” She chuckles, leaning over to kiss her younger brother on the head before messing up his hair. Like any good older sibling should before sending the young ones off to bed. 

Lance obeys her orders, just this once. 

After all, tomorrow is a big day. 

In the morning, all in the village is quiet— it’s all still as if a sudden movement would shatter the fragile world around it. As if a single action could change all of reality. No songbirds sing, nor do roosters crow, or Nymphs or fae gossip among they’re home at the mouth of the stream. Children are asked to remain silent, adults constantly keep up there guard. Nothing more than a whisper or a sigh comes from any living or breathing things. 

Nothing is allowed to make itself known and even nature seems to know this. Despite the normal rapidly changing weather of the Harvest Change, the air was as tense as the life breathing it. The wind did not blow to knock away the painted leaves, the sun did not shine as brightly as it did just vargas prior, the clouds were motionless in the sky.

“It’s foreboding, to say the least,” Lance finds himself saying to the thousandth person to comment on it as they come to return or check out books. To tell the truth, the state of the world around them did frighten Lance, it shook him to his core but did nothing for his resolve. He must do his duty, however much his heart begged him not to. He may have spent turns getting to know the impatient, yet regal Keith— spent turns becoming his friend: but he also spent his entire life preparing for this single day. Sehtoles, his bloodline had spent entire lifetimes preparing for this. 

“Will you be at the party tonight?” He heard the distant voice of his last guest, Plaxum, for the night asking. “I think the whole village will be there. If not just to keep tabs on each other, then for the booze.”

“Really?” Lance hums, not completely paying attention as he digs his key out of his pocket. He goes to take the beads down from his main entrance and put them aside— briefly wondering if anyone would believe the rather trashy thing was a gift from the Prince himself. 

“Yeah! There’s going to be more than the Arts Feast! Umaae may come down and drink with us herself!”

“I doubt a goddess has time to come down and drink on a night like this one.”

“Lance, when did you become such a Gnap?” 

The air chokes Lance as what Plaxum has said registers in his mind. “I am not a Gnap!”

“You are! You used to be the spark of fun at every feast, now you’re all doom and gloom wherever you go!”

“I’m still Lance! Still born under Umaae’s star! I’m just saying tonight probably isn’t a good idea!” Lance huffs, crossing his arms as the two make their way out of the library. Lance quickly locks the door, shoving his key into his pocket. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you remember what happened last change at the Feast of Flindalï?”

“What about it?”

“Remember how Madam Leolina swore up and down that James Griffin had stolen her rybia shoes? But she had really gotten drunk and given them to him on the street?” Lambent, had he been lucky that Keith managed to sneak out of the palace and kept him from going that way as well. If he had who knows what Madam Leolina what have accused him of. Thank the gods for drunken Keith taking a nap on his shoulder, he supposed. 

Plaxum sighs, “I see, I see. I suppose that’s logical. I certainly wouldn’t want to deal with the King of Voids temper.” Lance nods slightly. 

“Besides, I believe it is my night to cook Voltron’s meal. I should get to that before long.” 

“Well, don’t poison them.”

“My cooking isn’t that bad, Plax.” Lance sighs quietly as the giggling girl walks beside him. A knowing smirk rest on her lips. He escorts her home before making his way out to the dirt trail by the mouth of the woods. 

He takes a deep breath, watching the painted leaves fall to the earth below him. He can only pray that the mosaic foliage will cover his trail as he heads out to little busted up shed. And that the mud wouldn’t catch on his boots again. How inconvenient was it that the shed was at the mouth of a creek? His mind races with the possibilities of what can go wrong as he walks down to the cabin. All the ways he would be executed if he was caught. There he spends the day pacing, praying, and perfectly rehearsing his lines for tonight. He could hear his heart bursting out of his chest that constrained further and further with each pant for air. He didn’t know if he’d survive this.

By the time he was done rehearsing, he hadn’t noticed his peers edging him closer to the garden back entrance. The moonlight was the only thing lighting the forest path with its’ soft glow tinting the world in orange and reds. His friends idly chattering to him, a language he couldn’t make out over the thumping pulse in his ears. Pidge moving in front of him as Hunk cast a heavy cloak over his shoulders, the youngest of the trio tying the knot of the cloak just so it wouldn’t fall off him with the wind quickly picking up behind him. Hunk pulls the hood over Lance’s head, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder in reassurance. Pidge places a small metallic pin on the cloak and winks as if to say, you know what to do. They give him one last hug before leaving him alone. There he stands over an iron gate thrice the size of him that stands covered in ivy, sparing only the family crest from the floras twisting grip.

It takes him a moment to take the breath he’d been holding. Then the scrawny lad pushes open the massive gate with only the slightest creak echoing out from it. The guard outside only blinks upon hearing this, turning to face the source of the sound. A familiar set of brown eyes met Lance, a small nod comes from Matt Holt as he turns and heads inside. Now it is all a matter of timing. 

Lance darts to the amaryllis, hoping Keith had not seen him yet and he clears his throat. Not once but twice. He was now counting the ticks (maybe it had been a varga, it was hard to count as he was zoning out to the thumping of his chest) he had been standing here, surrounded by the beautiful flowers. The full bulbs about him and their beautiful scent were perhaps his only comforter for the moment. He said a silent prayer to Deamt that Keith would spot him before Lotor made his next round. He had already circled around once since Lance had arrived and he had only Keith’s flowers to thank for sparing him from the knight’s eyes. He wanders about pacing until he hears the chime of the grand old clock signaling that it was the eleventh varga, and then the dull thud of wood meeting heavy stone rings out strong into the deathly still air of the night. 

That was his cue. 

He doesn’t turn to see the Prince’s curious gaze fall on him as he starts to hum out the chords of the spell. He focuses on gently singing them, trying to remember exactly what he was to say and how. He focuses on the notes of every lyric leaving his mouth, and then he hears the rustle of the vines behind him. He barely hears the two soft thuds of Keith’s (what he believes to be) bare feet hitting the balcony ledge then the rustle of him climbing onto the same vines as earlier. Climbing down just as he did earlier that night. Now all the Irisian had to do was to wait for the spell to take effect and wait for the Prince to draw nearer, praying he would somehow hear the whispered words of the spell and his natural curiosity would only lead him further into the snare.

The night’s prey had fallen for the bait. A simple melody lures the ever curious Keith to slowly maneuver down long flowery vines: a candle in one hand as Lance slowly moves back further away from the gentle light. As the soft sound of steps slowly approach where Lance is, he begins to work his way back to the massive iron gate. He barely saw the way the vines wilted as he stepped away, and was thankful the young and gullible prince hadn’t seemed to take note. The pale candlelight was to dim, and the Prince was too focused on his “stranger in the dark hood” to realize the flowers about him were wilting. In fact, as Keith made his way past the hydrangeas, they appear to wilt as well. Almost as if in grief— like they know what is happening while those inside the castle are none the wiser. Flowers wilt left and right about the prince as Lance lets his humming grow slightly louder. 

He lets himself out of the gate quietly, heading into the mouth of the forest. The Prince hesitates for a moment as if he suspects what’s happening. Lance worries for a moment that his victim wasn’t deep enough under, that he had acted too quickly and failed. That subsides when he hears the quiet creak of the gate opening just a smidge and the gentle rustle of grass crunching beneath the feet of the Prince. As Lance slowly makes his way into the clearing, he keeps an eye on that dim candlelight that follows so close behind him. It was just a little further now, he could hear Pidge and Hunk joining him now in the gentle whispers of the spell. Just around the bend is the clearing; once he enters it, he quickly removes the pin from his cloak and snaps his fingers.

Three ticks go by in silence: then the pin transforms. The smooth metal handle turns into curved, knotted wood and with not one shake, but two, twisted straw attaches itself to the end of the broom. It floats just above where Lance had thrown the pin down, and he must say he’s impressed with Pidge’s charm for a getaway spell. But before he has time to truly take in the mystery of how she could manage such a thing, he is accompanied by the Prince in the clearing.

The Prince’s regal figure from earlier is now replaced by the same tiredness from the moment before the end of the ball. His white nightgown flowing gently in the wind, only reaching about his knees with the weather. In one hand a single candle almost spilling over its wax and in the other, a single scarlet rose, half bloomed. Lance slowly motions him closer, which he obeys without hesitation. He has 60 ticks before the clamor of guards disrupt the peaceful nature they have at this moment. Lance notices the faraway look in Keith’s (now lavender) eyes that has replaced those normal curious features: he seems vacant, pliant, utterly not Lance’s friend. He forces a Cheshire grin as he speaks his lines.

“Good job, my prince. Oh did you bring me a rose? How sweet,” the witch finds himself giggling. He leans over to gently cup Keith’s cheek– he’s shocked by how little hesitation goes into leaning against the witch’s touch. Lance then gently takes the rose loosely hanging in the fingertips of the prince. Lance can hear the knights clamoring about, ever closer to them. He must hurry. The candle falls to the ground, being smothered by the wind, it seemed Keith no longer had the energy to hold it. The witch grins softly, humming that song still. “Would you like me to finish your lullaby, gullible boy?” Keith nods. Lance swallows the lump in his throat. 

“Good. Then hold on. I don’t want you falling,” he obeys, laying his head against Lance. Lance wraps his arms around the Prince’s waist struggling to keep him up. Lance swears the younger boy’s head is about to fall back like a newborn if he doesn’t find some support to lean against soon. He gently lifts the others head with his thumb, bringing him to meet his eyes. “Why don’t you keep looking at me? Hold on but keep your eyes on mine?” As Lance continues the song, he can’t help but notice that the Prince’s eyes were quickly falling closed. Almost as fast as the Knights were drawing to close. Soon Keith is about to fall asleep standing up, Lance gently picks him up, going to sit on his broom and pulling the Prince into his lap. “Do you believe in witches now?” Lance asked feeling his lips twist upwards from the hybrid smirk-smile that was so iconic to him. 

Lance flies as fast as this broom will carry him through the long way to the cabin.

The Prince of Stars lies in a deep sleep in the bed of a witch that night. One who sits at his side and says his final prayer for the night, hoping this spell may quell the anger of the now sleeping angel in his bed. 

Lance would soon come to find out that there was no way on Lambent’s side that was possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Well, it's been months since I last updated and I wanted to apologize. I've been trying to write more on this series, I really have been. It's just that life seemingly doesn't want me too. These past few months my mother has almost been laid off, I've been working as much as I could, I've been doing band camp, taking care of my kid siblings, trying to handle my medical problems. I know this must just sound like A bunch of excuses and I'm sorry. I am going to finish this story though, it may just take a little longer than I expected. I'm really sorry again for the huge wait. 
> 
> I always appreciate feedback, just message me on my tumblr (https://supella-remains.tumblr.com/) with any thoughts, comments or concerns you have. Thank you all and I love you.


	6. How to Burn a Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Royal family is dealing.

“How many ways are there to burn a witch?”

So far the King, Takashi Stoneshire, had counted a total of thirty-five unique ways he could punish the thugs who decided it would be a good idea to take his darling baby brother from him. All of the actual deaths would be public of course so the people could see what would happen to anyone who dared to harm Keiran. But there were no promises for whatever other punishments seemed fit. 

He had only been awake for a varga, woken by the shrill cry of his mother. She had woken early that morning to take her youngest some form of meal, she had spent the night praying. Praying that Keiran would be safely asleep that morning, curled up in his bed like he always was— clinging onto his pillow like he was cuddling with a lover. She had planned to bring him his favorite breakfast (kraken and waffles) and then quickly head to the temple to give thanks. Then she would take the prince to meet Takashi, himself, in the town. They would celebrate with the people. 

How all that had changed. 

Now instead of sipping wine or ale and skipping stones with his family out towards the pond, Takashi sat in the floor— attempting to comfort his grieving mother. He sat on his knees and held her close next to his chest, feeling her entire body shake with every sob and his heart break a little more each time she clutches her grip around the empty blankets.

The knights around them search for any possible clues of where the young prince may have gone, other than the option they all prayed was nothing more than a hypothetical. They buzz around the room until Takashi feels his wits burn along with that bile of rage in his stomach. The rage that’s deep-seated and burning him from the inside out. His voice was much rougher than he meant when he ordered the troops back out into the woods to search once more, he heard the beginning of a growl teeter in the start of each sentence. That doesn’t help his Mother’s sobbing though. As the noises of servants clamor away from the two, the woman breaks down further into sobs— and into the madness of grief. 

“Takashi, I cannot lose him,” she tries to say calmly through the tears. 

“Mother, you— we won’t lose him. We will find him, and then he’ll be home safe with us.” He tries to calm her but her sobbing only grows louder, heavier and more desperate with each reassurance. 

“First your father!” The King feels the bite in those words: his own hurt at the loss of his father resurfacing before he can gain his composure. “Then your sister!” A lump grows in the King’s throat. It had been so long since they had even mentioned her. Their grief over her death only now hitting him— and doing so hard. “And now the gods have taken your brother as well! Have we not suffered enough? Have we not lost enough?!” She pants for air in between her sobs. “Do they plan on taking you from me as well?”

“Mother, you know they are not so cruel,” he tries again calmly. “Keiran is fine, he will be fine. Only away for a time—.”

“Takashi, no. Do you not see what this is?”

“Mother, there’s no need to—.”

“This is the Prophecy, this is the end of our bloodline.” She says softly. “My Starlight is gone.”

“He isn’t gone! We will find him.”

“My Starlight...go Takashi, leave me.”

“But—.”

“Go and leave me to my mourning, your highness.” She says, almost numb in tone. “Allow me to be with Starlight’s things.”

By Takashi’s count, this is the fifth time he has swallowed that swelling lump in his dry throat. “I can’t leave you like this. Not alone at least, Mother.”

“Then send for Kolivan or one of the priestesses from the Temples of Roscadia or Gnap. I shall wait.” Takashi forces his shaking knees to stand. 

“Alright. If that’s your wish.” He slowly leans over and kisses the top of her head. 

“Go. Join the search if you truly believe he’s out there, Sunshine,” She says softly, almost trying to sound reassuring with the sweet, childhood nickname. And with a nod of his head, Takashi is out the door and the servants are fetching who Takashi has called for. Both the priestesses and the leader of the Guard. 

Adam comes to Takashi’s side as soon as he arrives; having just came home from a journey at daybreak, just in enough time to catch the guard riding out to the woods. By the time he rushes in, fully dressed in his armor— the King is stalking the halls and treading into the village to get his prized horse, Katelnecker. 

“Takashi,” Adam huffs out, “Takashi, listen to me.” His leather covered hand latches around the King’s wrist, causing him to quickly halt. The gentle tug against his wrist tells him to turn to face the knight. Takashi huffs looking at the man in armor— his tan muscles hidden just behind the chainmail and plates of pure steel. The rusted dents in his helmet that remained from his jousting day contrasted from his honey brown eyes. Takashi sighed, knowing himself too well than to try and fight with the knight. 

“Yes, Adam? I need to go join the search for my brother.”

“Not yet.”

“What?”

“Takashi, you and I both know Kieran got his impulsiveness from watching you. And you have a tendency to be especially bad at self-control when you’re this angry.”

“What are you saying, Adam?”

“I’m saying you need to calm down before you go out there and make a mistake you’ll regret!” He huffs, throwing his arm out in exasperation: he gestured to the small village out its view. “Look, you need to be calm and in control of this! If you’re not, they aren’t going to know what to do! They’ll panic and a whole witch hunt will ensue.” The King tries to hold onto his unbridled rage, tries to argue with Adam over this matter. 

It unsurprisingly does not work. 

He finds himself, letting out a heavy sigh instead. “Well then what do I do?”

“You be you, Takashi. You be the great leader you are,” he smiled gently to him. “Just, take a deep breath— we’ll give the village a while to wake and then myself, you, and Lotor will join the search by investigating in the town. I’ve already sent word to Thace and Ulaz.”

“Adam, I envy your rationale.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’m only hanging on until we find these Jurimolah or Chamedeas who did this. Then I make no promises.” 

“Lambent, I love you.” Adam smiles to the tired king softly. 

“Let’s go draw up a plan for this investigation, your highness.” The King of Void walks with his knight into the war room, just to discuss some tactics to tell if one of the villagers would try to lie to them. Quickly, they head into town. Takashi could only pray that they would find some answers.

By noon, they still had no answers. All they knew was they had a long list of nothing that could help them: James Griffin denies even meeting the prince until his mother casually remembers a time when the boy came home all excited because he had gotten to kiss the young man on the cheek. “Hunk” Garrett was in bed before sundown— as most of the town could vouch seeing as the ground shook with his snoring. Leolina Wilde merely prattled on and on, over and over on how the Prince had repeatedly torn up his flowers (which only Lotor seemed to believe, seeing as he did not understand Keiran’s affinity with flowers.) She demanded reparations, clearly not understanding his situation entirely. Katherine Holt and Allura Garrett spent the night in the local inn— helping care for the drunken mess of Rory Elmore and Plaxum Gale’s lot. All useless and pointless to their cause and now they were drawing a crowd. It all seems fruitless to the King as if no one here could have possibly done this. That is until his brother’s knight makes a sudden move, pushing the civilians out of the way to reach a single man who was hunched over far in the back. He watched with curious blue eyes, which quickly turned frightened as the knight charged him.

“You!” Lotor growls, pushing through the crowd. Takashi can’t let himself say anything fast enough to stop the violent act from the knight. “Trying to sneak off, are you Catalan? I bet it was you and your likes.” He spat venomously for all the stunned crowd to hear. A quiet murmur quickly spreading through the crowd as the lot stare at the man, the Librarian pressed against the wall— a dagger pressed dangerously close to where his chin meets his neck. 

“What? As if I could take Keith!” He tries to push the knight off him, his knife away from the chin. The Arusan stands firm, barely giving the Irisian room to breathe. “And me and my friends were with our families last night! How could we have snuck past the village and no one saw us if we took him!”

“I know you better than that.” The animalistic growl tore from Lotor’s throat. “I know how conniving and manipulative you are, Catalan. You cannot fool me.”

Lance huffs out, “Just why would I have done it anyways?! I was Kei— the Prince’s friend! Why would I kidnap him?”

“Maybe you couldn’t stand the idea of —.” He begins to growl, but finally, the lead knight steps up to his student. 

“Lotor, mind yourself. You know how we all feel about violent acts against innocent civilians,” Adam states calmly, pulling Lotor away. 

“Innocent?!” He nearly shrills. 

“Sir West?” Lance asks quietly. He almost sounds astounded. 

“Yes innocent. He is innocent until stated otherwise by our King or the Mother Queen,” he glares daggers into the others slitted eyes. “Or are you that unfamiliar with our laws, Dianate?” He gulps and takes a step back as Adam turns to face the King, bowing ever so slightly. 

A soft sigh breaks the silence; waving Lotor away, he begins to speak so softly it was shocking it came from the enraged King. The King’s knight, Adam, puts his hand on the King’s shoulder— an attempt to comfort him. “Lotor, leave the man be. He did not take my brother,” the King says. Lotor huffs and backs away. “Son.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Lance finally lets the breath he was holding fall from him. “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me, son. Would you like to sit with me and my knight for a while? We would like to discuss a few things with you.”

“Of course, your majesty. If you’d like to come in, I have cider prepared,” he bows before pushing aside the beads in the door behind him. The King nods and slowly enters, only briefly turning over to say one thing. 

“Lotor, you are dismissed.” And with that, he enters the library through the tangled, glittering beads. 

“But sir—!” Lotor gasps, offendedly. 

“He said you are dismissed. I would make my way back to the castle and read up on our code, if I were you,” Adam warns the Arusan knight. He huffs, taking a deep breath— and steps away from the guard and trudges back to his stallion. Adam smirks as he watches the other mount the steed and trudge back to the castle and then he follows the King into the library. 

They are slowly lead into the back corner in between the science and fantasy sections— in what seems to be an unvisited area of the building if the cobwebs were to judge, yet quite popular according to the crumbs on the floor. The librarian pulls out a seat, “sorry for the mess, I haven’t had a chance to clean since the last meeting of Voltron.”

“Voltron?” Adam asked, earning a wide grin from Lance. 

“Our book club! Keith had been coming for the last two turns, but we’ve been up and running for three!” He smiles widely. “I’m going to have to put all the books he misses back on his list…again.” He shrugs and sits across from the King and the Knight. “May I offer you some cider? Hunk brought a fresh batch over not to long ago. He’s had a bit of a slow day at the bakery.”

“No thank you,” the King says. Every precaution must be taken right now. Can’t have a witch poisoning the King in this nation’s moment of crisis. Even if he did not suspect Lance, who knows what these witches might do. 

“Sir West?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Adam says after some careful thought. Lance simply smiles and takes the pitcher, filling a teacup filled to the brim with warm cider and offering it to Adam. Then pouring himself a cup and taking a long sip. “If it’s alright with you, we would like to ask you some questions now. Alright, Catalan?” Adam asked. As a gesture of solidarity, he gently places his hand on Takashi’s shoulder— just giving it a light reassuring squeeze. 

The librarian nods, pushing his glasses back up his nose as the begin to slide away. “I’m nothing if not an open book,” he tries to offer as a joke— hoping to lighten their heavy spirits. 

The King doesn’t seem to quite understand. He immediately asks in a somber tone, “Where do you think my brother is?”

The Librarian quickly seems to read the atmosphere, clearing his throat and his smile dropping ever so slightly. “Well… I wouldn’t quite know: he could be anywhere in Els’rawand. He could be here, just over the mountain in Yillington, or as far as the shores of Morincole. But I do know one thing, your highness.”

“Well spit it out, Catalan,” Adam says, keeping a firm hand on Takashi’s shoulder. 

“Keith would never go down, even with a fight. You have nothing to worry about. Your brother is alive and well.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Takashi sighs, quirking up an eyebrow. 

“Call it intuition, or call it I was Keith’s closest friend,” he sips the warm cider in his cup once more before looking down at it. 

“Really now?”

“Well yes, I was Keith’s and you were Kieran’s. We treated them both very differently. Keiran was a prince and Keith was...himself, without the constant guard it seems you royals have to take up.”

“How did you get to know so much about my brother?”

“I listened,” the librarian chuckles pushing up the reading glasses. “Well, that and you can learn a lot about someone from what they read.”

“What he read?” Lance offers a small smile and stands up. He turns to the small shelf behind him, quickly pulling books off after just lightly skimming his finger across the surface of their spines. Soon a pile of three novels sat on the table in front of the King. “What are these?”

The soft, bittersweet smile doesn’t quite meet Lance’s eyes. “These are his favorites. I know the royal library must be filled to the brim with amazing literature from all over, the rarities I’d never even hope to see: but, these seemed to be special to the Prince. I must insist you check them out in his stead though, just so he can have them when you find him,” Takashi feels his brow furrow in confusion, as he looks over the books laid out in front of him. “This one he just got done reading, he’s probably still got notes in there too— it’s a romance novel, he really seemed to love the concept of true love. So I recommended it to him, it’s about two Myths destined to be together— despite one being a demigod and the other being the last of his species and on the execution block. And this one is an autobiography by one of the members of Queen Albatross’ crew, I believe it is by her former tutor—…”

“Kingsley?”

“Yes! Him! And the last one was about Irisia, he told me he’d love to come visit the next time I make a trip home.” He smiles down into the cider, stirring it slightly. “I promised if he could learn all of our history I would happily take him with me. Which shouldn’t have been too hard for him, I mean he already knew most everything because of some family friend,” Lance chuckles softly at himself. “So he better get back rather soon, we’re set to go in four changes.”

Takashi is speechless. He had never realized his brother was that interested in Irisia if he had known he could have married him off to Fabian’s sister (Jezebel’s) son. Jamison was a charming young man, who seemed to well care for himself and his circle of maids. He had a responsible head on his shoulders, at least enough to keep Keith’s impulsivity as bay...or on second thought. The King knew he wouldn’t have married him off to Jamison, Keiran’s heart couldn’t handle an affair, but that wasn’t quite why either. They already had Irisia as an ally in this silent war, it wouldn’t have been beneficial to Takashi and his people: maybe the hot-headed Prince was right about his underlying selfishness after all.

And maybe it wasn’t even about Irisia for Keith. Maybe for him, it was more about the who, than the where. Keiran had been to Irisia five turns ago, and in fact, he stayed there for a change— with Lotor, Adam, and himself: a retreat for the betrothed, was what Takashi had originally called it. He remembered Keith being stubborn and hateful: he hated everything about the country. It was too warm for his nature, too lively for the peace he needed to think, the people were too loud, too outgoing, too arrogant, and everything was too much for the young Prince. Of course, he still tried to be on his best behavior— especially around others. It was just a brother’s intuition that told him that, just as it was a brother’s intuition that told him this man was why Keith wished to return to the country he so hated. The more the King thought on the matter, the more sense it made as he listened to the librarian droning on and gossipping about Keith.

Takashi could almost see him, in this peaceful “what if.” He could see his brother genuinely happy, smiling in the arms of the man in front of him. He could see his precious baby brother so clearly in love: so clearly relieved to be with this librarian. Keiran...Keith in Lance’s arms— Takashi was ashamed he ever suggested the Librarian had taken him in the first place. Maybe this weakness of heart, maybe knowing what his brother would say or do to keep Lance out of suspicion: knowing Keith’s smile would be offered the moment he met Lance’s eyes, maybe that’s what caused the next words to fall past his lips. 

“You really love him, don’t you?” He finds himself sighing, not even realizing the sentence left his mouth. But what he does notice is the blush rising up in Lance’s neck and cheeks as the question sinks in. He hears the forced laughter to clear the librarian’s throat.

“Well… he is one of my best visitors. He’s single-handedly kept me in business before.” Lance smiles wide, giving the cheesiest grin he could muster. Oh, this personality was very similar to someone else the King knew. Takashi can’t help the quiet laugh that bubbles out of him, remembering a very similar knight in his court. One who always made sure to offer him his biggest, most genuine smile and teased him constantly. He looks over his shoulder to this knight, who bears that knowing smile. He reaches over and gently touches his hand. “I understand,” Takashi smiles softly. “Well thank you for talking to us, Lance Catalan.” Lance stands back up to bow, but Takashi shakes his head and offers his hand. The librarian hesitates. 

“My King—?”

“Any friend of Keith is a friend of mine. If you hear anything on him, write me— storm the castle if need be. And if you or your book club need anything, never hesitate to ask. I owe it to those who helped him for so long.”

“I— thank you, your majesty.”

“Oh and Lance?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You may call me Takashi.” Adam picks up Keith’s normal books bowing to Lance. He slowly follows Takashi out back into the street to head to the next location. Maybe they’d find Keith soon and maybe Shiro could apologize to him. And just maybe he could make it up to him: maybe Takashi could see his brother smile on his wedding day. And maybe that day would be shared with a certain near-omniscient librarian, who stood outside to wave them off. The one who struggled to put his beads away in the proper home, outside of the door’s hinges: the one who seemed to know just a little too much about the King’s dear younger brother for “just a friend” to know.

Now the King panned on going onto a thirty-seventh way to kill a witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the supportive comments on the last chapter. I can't tell you how much they meant to me, or how much I can even begin to appreciate them. Just thanks, so much.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter from Shiro's P.O.V, I thought before I write the next chapter/one shot-flashback thing you all might enjoy knowing how the royal family dealt with Keith's disappearance.
> 
> If you have any questions or just wanna talk just hit me up on tumblr: Supella_Remains .
> 
> Love you all!


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